Stolen Moments
by Aunt Pitty
Summary: These are a collection of "stolen moments" between our favorite couple. Most are in the form of pillow talk. Mostly fluffy for now, but darker moments may intrude. Story is in form of one shots, in no particular order. Rating may change in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_Just finished GWTW. Amazing read! I've been lurking on the sight, and have read some great stories. My idea is to highlight some of the interactions that might have occurred between our two favorite characters. Most of them occur, in the form of pillow talk, I think most will center on the honeymoon period. Be kind. I love reviews._Stolen Moments

**1-IN THE RAW**

"Scarlett" he asked as they were laying in the moonlight. "Have you ever…er…seen a man?"

"Why! What sort of question is that?" she rolled out of his arms and onto her side, pulling the sheets up close and tucking them under her chin.

"My dear," he laughed, "I didn't intend to upset you so, I was merely inquiring because…"

"Because you are nothing but a cad," she finished "an ill-mannered cad." How she wished, this conversation had occurred before they…well before, when she had been clothed and still had the opportunity to storm out of the room.

He rolled to his side and rested his head on his arm. "Despite your belief that I was asking simply to cause you discomfort and shame, my question was actually aimed in another direction entirely."

She said nothing but pulled the sheet up higher, hiding from his view the lovely curve of her shoulder bathed in the moonlight.

"Well," he continued, "we are newly wed and I…" He stopped suddenly and sat up reaching for her nightdress. "Darling," he drawled as he handed the garment over, "would you feel more comfortable if you were clothed."

"Yes, I would." She answered stiffly. "Please turn around Rhett and let me have a moment's privacy."

He smiled as he draped the garment over her form, and turned his back to her. "You would think," he continued, a lazy casualness in his voice, "That after, well after having shared …. Intimacies as we so recently have that you wouldn't feel so modest about…"

"Rhett!" she nearly shouted, slapping him on the shoulder.

Rhett Butler smiled. It had been four days, four exact days of wedded bliss. And just as he had promised to her and to himself prior to their wedding, he was going out of his way to ensure that marriage to him would be fun. And so far it had been. Why four days of travel, and shopping and eating and drinking and dancing. That was enough to make any young woman's head spin. Especially one as precious and spoiled as Scarlett O'Hara had once been. And well, he intended to restore her to that exact position. Under his care she would return to what she was always meant to be, a spoiled precious darling, HIS spoiled, precious darling.

But marriage to him would be more than balls, and food and flattery. There was also the discomforting affair of the "marital relations", and just how she would "endure" those. For he could bend to any of her whims and desires, but, he chuckled softly to himself, chastity was not one of them. And though she had handled these first four days well enough, he had ridden himself with tight reins. Very tight indeed.

"I'm finished." Her chilled voice broke his reverie. "You may lie back down if you wish." She said quietly, laying once again with her back to him.

"Thank you my pet," he said as he laid on his back, this time his head resting on his muscled arms. "You see my dear that was a perfect example of what prompted such an inappropriate question to begin with."

"Oh," she sighed, knowing that he would not stop until he got to the heart of the matter. "Pray tell then, what is the exact reason for your vulgarity."

"Well," he continued, ignoring her sarcasm, his voice growing thoughtful, "We have only been wed for four days, and there is so much to learn about one another. Especially in matters of sharing our quarters…and well, to be frank…sharing a bed. I guess that I could have worded the question in a more appropriate manner, but then again a yes or no answer would have brought me closer to the point."

"What is the point?" She yawned, thinking to herself that one of the many things she would definitely have to grow accustomed to was his manner of constantly conversing while in bed. Why to her, the notion of sharing a bed with a man was still a tad shameful, so though she knew it was the standard occurrence in a modern marriage, and she had of course shared a bed with her two previous husbands, she did not want to draw homage to the situation by making the bed a place for anything other than sleep, and well performing her duties

Rhett on the other hand, the bed was like a playground to him; to laugh and play, and eat, and have endless conversations. Why the minute he was in the bed he would turn on his side, and rest his head in his hand and the discourse would begin. And the marital duties, she blushed thankful for the cover of the dark, she wasn't even going to being thinking about getting used to that. She only hoped that he was attacking her with an enhanced ardor due to the fact that it was after all, their honeymoon.

"The point my dear, is that I wasn't really wondering if you had ever seen a nude man, but rather if the sight of one made you…uncomfortable. You may have noticed," he continued rolling to his side and facing her back, "that for the past four mornings when you have awakened I have already been gone, usually returning to the room with a tray of breakfast for you. And though by nature I am an early riser, this is our honeymoon and well, I could think of nothing finer to do then wake with you."

She had been thankful, to say the least, to find him gone in the mornings. Especially the first morning, the morning after their "wedding night". Why she wasn't sure if she would have even been able to face him the next morning. If it hadn't been for the fact that he had risen early and left the room, she would have simply died from shame and embarrassment, of the previous night's events. Once he had risen, she had quickly found her nightgown and wrap, and by the time he had returned, smiling and jovial with a loaded breakfast tray in hand, she had been dressed and poised upon the bed in a fashion she thought suited a lady like herself.

But now, now he was suggesting a different start to the day. And though, she had to admit she did enjoy lying nestled in his strong arms, or draped across his fiercely broad chest in the evenings….she did not think that she could ever behave so boldly in daylight. Surely, he wasn't suggesting nudity as an acceptable…

"You see," he continued as he reached out a hand and began softly stroking her hair. "I like to sleep…as nature intended so to speak, and in the mornings, why I find no shame in walking about and sorting my business in the nude until I am clothed." Here he paused, particularly because he felt her stiffen under his touch. "But my dear, if this state of disrobement were to say…make you feel uncomfortable …, why I would consider an alternative."

There was a moment of silence while Scarlett contemplated the state of the situation she had gotten herself into. To have a wed a man who was so brazen as to suggest that he should sleep in the nude, and even dare to walk around in such a state why it was simply mortifying.

"Why," she turned to face him, "you are just as ill-mannered as I suspected! How could you even dare to suggest such a thing?"

His laughter filled the dark room, and his strong heavy hand rested on her hip, "It wasn't a suggestion dear, it was an inquiry. And now that I know that you wouldn't appreciate seeing me …in my masculine glory, why of course I'll amend that."

"I think a nightshirt would be more suited." She said quietly.

"A nightshirt?" He roared incredulous, "why I'm no old man Scarlett, I'm sure you intend me to wear a stocking cap as well?No, a nightshirt won't do, but, I will wear my drawers if that pleases you."

"Rhett, your drawers? Why those are private as well, and besides, they will leave most of you uncovered….they would be just as offensive as nothing at all."

"Scarlett," he laughed, " I hope you aren't suggesting that your newly wed husband is offensive to behold, why I always thought my physique was quite pleasing to the eye, at the very least I never considered my form to be well….offensive."

"Stop," she giggled, "you know what I mean, your drawers, why they are just as revealing as nothing at all, especially the kind you wear…" she stopped, suddenly aware of her mistake, her face burned furiously in the darkened room, and she could see his white teeth smiling from across the bed.

"Why how scandalous Mrs. Butler," he smiled giving her hip a gentle shake, "why you've been peeking haven't you?"

"No Rhett," she answered quickly, "dear God, I would never…"

"You would and you have my dear," he laughed, "and what's more you've been caught."

"Oh stop it Rhett,"

"Did you like what you saw Mrs. Butler or was it…offensive?" He continued unable to keep the pleasure from his voice.

"I didn't see ANYTHING ! Oh Rhett stop, you're truly horrible for mocking me so on our honeymoon, and I mean, you did say marriage would be fun didn't you? And I certainly don't find this conversation to be any fun at all!"

"Well, I on the contrary am having a great deal of fun," he laughed flopping onto his back, "and I think you are too! Why in just 4 days I've turned you from a proper southern belle to a….peeping tom."

"A peeping Tom! Oh you are positively wretched! I did no such thing…I may have simply caught a glimpse of….something, why with you parading around here like a cock in the hen house, I could barely avoid…"

"So, you've been feigning sleep in the mornings have you?" He asked with a mischievous grin. "I'll have to check more carefully….to think of all the fun I've missed, slipping out of the room early, just to be cordial."

"Oh, stop it Rhett, you know I've been sound asleep, especially with you keeping me up every night with all this endless…. talking."

"Too much talking between the sheets my dear?" he asked laughing "is there something else you'd rather be doing?"

"God's nightgown!" she hollered rolling onto her back, "I'd rather be sleeping!"

In one swift move he was on top of her, his weight resting on his elbows, his dark handsome face, so close she could make out the gentle fire that glowed in his eyes. "Are you sure," he whispered as he placed a soft chaste kiss on her lips, "that there's nothing else that could interest you this evening?"

Under his gaze, inside his arms with his warm soft kisses, and his arms holding her firmly beneath him, she looked up and she was caught speechless, breathless….

"I…I…," she faltered.

"Don't worry my pet," he whispered, as he ran his lips down the side of her neck, "I can help you think of something."


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you all for your kind reviews. I actually had to pull and re-post chapter one after editing. Can't believe there was a typo in the title. Anyhow, love this one. These two just take off running, when you write about them, they absolutely will not let the story go in any direction other than where they want to go ! Lots of fluff on this one ! Be kind- REVIEW !_

**Old Biddies and Such**

No sooner had their heads hit the pillow, that he rolled on his side, and taking the familiar pose, rested his head up on his hand. "Scarlett," he started as he did most every night, "how was it with Frank?"

"Good Lord Rhett, is there nothing you're not curious about?"

He laughed, "Yes, all things that don't concern you. Come now, how was it with you and old Frank?"

"How was what?" she yawned.

"How was it…er…in the bedroom."

"God's Nightgown!" she shot up into sitting position and smacked him on the arm. "Have you no decency? How dare you ask a lady a thing like that?"

"Scarlett," he laughed, "I think it's well been determined that you are no lady. And for that matter, I am no gentleman, so that pretty well establishes that no question is beneath me. And beside the point, what exactly did you think I was asking?"

"Don't you dare play innocent with me you cad, you know very well, what you were asking, and that question is beneath even your vile upbringing."

"Actually," he smiled rolling onto his back and resting his head on folded arms, "my upbringing was quite nice. You have no call to insult my parentage. I managed to turn out quite vile despite their most earnest efforts. And beside the point, it was your own mind the suggested my inquiry to be aimed at your …er…marital relations. I was just wondering what it was…like in your bedroom."

'In that case," she turned to face him, and smiled sweetly, "it was dark, and plain, and well you know the general décor at Aunt Pitty's!"

"Come now Scarlett," he laughed, "how was it with you and Frank up there? Did you lay in bed and talk together; did you have a good laugh? Where you….I mean did he…."

"No," she answered curtly, "whatever you are thinking, I wasn't and he didn't." She flopped down on her back besides him. "It wasn't anything like this."

"I should certainly hope not!" He responded gruffly.

"Why you know how Frank was," she turned on her side to face him, suddenly awake. "He was like a dear old biddy."

"My word Scarlett," he roared, "but you do know how to insult a man!"

"Oh he was a dear!" she laughed, her eyes twinkling in the dark. "You know I cared about him! But he was an old biddy nevertheless."

Seeing her mood had changed to one of merriment, he turned to face her and asked in a light voice, "and what of your relations?"

She looked at him, and even in the darkness of the room, she could see his dark eyes burning. "Why do you care so much about that Captain Butler? Surely you know enough, I mean our union produced a child did it not?" She answered coyly.

"You know it takes but one time to produce a child my pet."

"I know quite well." She whispered

"You don't mean …" he started, amazed. Why he had known her marriage to Charles, brief as it was, had managed to produce a child. And old Frank, while not exactly an old biddy, Rhett had serious doubts about his ardor. Scarlett might well indeed be one of the most fertile woman in Atlanta, he thought, smiling to himself and beginning to think that perhaps he should take heed as well.

"No, I wasn't quite so lucky with Frank." She sighed.

"Lucky?" He asked surprised. "Why, I thought you never wanted children?"

"I never did." She laughed. "But at least, had I gotten with child quickly, I would have been able to put off his clumsy advances. Instead I had to endure his 'foolishness' for months."

He laughed out loud. "Good Lord Scarlett was it so hard to 'endure' "?

"Frank was a dear; he did so much for me and for Tara, and well that part of our relationship, was just something I had to _endure_. Just like these questions," she smiled, "these endless questions from you, they're something I have to _endure._ Though," she paused briefly, "You are a lot harder to put off then dear old Frank was."

He smiled; Scarlett O'Hara was quite a woman. She seemed to be full of passion about all things, less the one that required passion the most. Why she had practically been terrified on their wedding night, despite the fact that she had born two children. It had taken all of his patience and kindness to gently draw her out of her fear. Of course, he couldn't blame her, he chuckled, she had been married to a fumbling boy, and a shy old man. Surely neither of those two had known the first thing about pleasing a woman. He doubted if they had even known how to please themselves.

"Now what on earth is making you so giddy Captain Butler? You know it's true…why, it's simply impossible to stop your talking."

He laughed quietly. Scarlett was indeed like a child. As much as she claimed to hate these nightly discussions, once he got her interest piqued, she would roll to face him and chatter away until all hours of the night. "I'll not hide it from you Scarlett," he stated, "It simply drives me mad to know that you've lain in another man's arms."

"Well, that Captain Butler is something you'll have to learn to _endure_. Bedside's," she continued, "I'm certainly not the first woman you've ever lain with so I don't know why you'd be so bothered."

"Well," he answered, "No, you're not…but it's different. I wasn't wed to those women, they meant nothing to me, and…..they certainly never lay in my arms."

"Never?" she rose on her elbow and looked at him, "Is it really like that with those types of women….do you part ways after….after you're finished?"

"Of course," he laughed, "unless you've paid up for the night!"

"God's nightgown!" she exclaimed, "smacking him on the arm. "What a horrible, vile, pig you are! My word! And I suppose you'd have me believe that you never 'paid up for the night'!"

"Calm down Scarlett," he laughed, "you asked, didn't you? And by the way," he added turning to face her and smiling smugly, "I usually didn't have to pay at all."

"Good Lord!" she nearly shouted.

"Oh Scarlett," he said wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close in an attempt to calm her, "you are such a child, and it is so much fun to goad you."

"But you aren't goading are you?" She asked pulling herself out of his arms, and turning to face him sitting up, "there were endless women weren't there?"

"Well," he answered, not liking the turn this conversation had taken, "not endless".

"You know it's true!" she continued, "You're always at those…vile houses, and why…every woman here in New Orleans seems to know you by name!"

He took a deep breath. This was indeed an unfortunate turn of events for him. "Good Lord Scarlett, just because they know me doesn't mean….and besides there's more to do in those houses than…well I go to those houses mostly….. to play cards and have a few drinks and converse."

"Oh really," her perfect eyebrow shot up into an arch above a bright green eye. "Is that what happens in those houses of ill repute? Just chatter and playing cards?" she continued sweetly, "why we must inform the citizens of Atlanta because they've all been misinformed!" She punctuated her statement with a slap to his arm, and then flopped onto her back.

"Do I detect a note of Jealousy in your voice dear wife?" He asked smugly, hoping to diffuse the argument he had unwillingly incited.

"Jealousy?" She turned to face him, and her eyes flashed angrily in the darkened room. "Do you dare to suggest that I would be jealous of those wanton women? Or that I would be jealous of the vile acts of debauchery in which you partake? Why, I would have you know that I would prefer to be chaste, then to continue to indulge your ….your….shameless pursuit of….pleasure!"

"My God Scarlett," he laughed, "Why, I think that is the most eloquent speech I've ever heard you make."

"I'm glad I amuse you Captain Butler." She said rolling away from him.

The room was silent for a moment. He did hate when their conversations ended this way. He had indeed hoped to have her in his arms for the remainder of the evening. Certainly he had never intended that he would have to explain his past actions to her, or anyone for that matter. But now she was angry, and rightfully so, no woman would enjoy the knowledge of her husband's previous conquests, especially not on her honeymoon.

"Be fair darling," he said softly, reaching out a hand and placing it on her hip. "You knew all about my wicked ways before we were wed. I hid nothing from you. And besides, I was quite un-attached at the time of my…er…self-indulgence."

"When have you ever been attached?" She said coolly.

"Why, I'm quite attached now my pet." He laughed.

"Humph" she sighed, "Are you claiming you've been…faithful."

"Of course I have." He answered firmly.

She turned to face him, and fixed her eyes on his, studying him in the darkness. "I don't believe you." She said frankly.

"I haven't been with a woman, any woman, since the day you agreed to be my wife." He said calmly, "And truth be told there've been very few since the day I met you."

"Stop," Her perfect lips turned up into the little pout he loved so much, "you know that isn't so."

"It is so," he laughed pulling her against his chest and wrapping his arms around her. "At first, I must admit, there were a few attempts to drive you out of my mind. But when that plan wasn't successful, I established a new course of action….I would have you and no one else!"

"Stop it Rhett Butler," she laughed, making a halfhearted attempt to work her way out of his arms, "you mustn't spin such tall tales," she teased coyly, "especially not to your newly wed wife."

"Oh Scarlett my dear," he added a false baritone to his voice, and preached loudly into the darkened room, happy that their argument seemed to have come to a halt. "It may please you to know that while you suffered under the touch of Dear Old Biddy Frank's inexperienced touch, I too suffered greatly, for you had placed such a hold on my heart that no other could bring me pleasure." He stopped for a moment, and she could feel his dark eyes boring into hers, and suddenly all lightness and merriment had left them. "No one but you." He finished in his normal tone.

"Rhett," she whispered. His hold and the strange raw look in his eyes having taken her breath away. "You mustn't say….well…you know it isn't so."

In one swift move he rolled them over. And just as it was in the beginning of the evening, he was laying on top of her, his weight resting on his elbows, his face close to hers, his deep dark eyes always so hungry, so intense, and so fixed upon hers. His center was pressed into her, and his breath, was warm and soft. "It is so Scarlett O'Hara." He said with an odd sort of smile on his face.

Scarlett thought, perhaps she was a child, for nothing could get her used to eyes that stared at her as if she was the last drop of water, or morsel of food on the entire planet. In the evenings, often after conversing, Rhett would be overcome with something, a raw hunger and she knew there was nothing she could do other than let him take her. And, despite his hunger and passion, he was always gentle and tender when he had that look in his eyes.

She reached a hand out from beneath his large form, and gently cupped his cheek. "It's Scarlett Butler, now sir," she said with a smile, as she felt his warm lips pressing against hers.

"It is," he said between kisses, "it is indeed."


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you to all those who have reviewed. Writing is thankless work, without reviews. A quick question- I am contemplating trying to string these bits together and doing a story on the honey moon period. What are your thoughts ? Or do we enjoy, these kind of one shot tid bits. Please let me know, there are some amazing writers out there._

**Marks from the past**

"Scarlett," he began, "How did you get these marks?"

She was lying on her stomach facing away from him, and he on his side besides her, his head resting in his hand, his finger lazily running up and down the length of her spine.

"What marks?" she asked sleepily.

"These." He leaned closer to her back and his finger slowly ran up her back until it found the desired spot. "Right here, is one, and then another and…"

"They're just…scars," she yawned, "leave them be."

"Scars?" he asked, "I've never noticed scars on your back darling."

"Good Lord Rhett," she said turning her head to face him, "we've been married less than a week; surely you haven't had the chance to notice everything."

"Well," he mumbled, "I've seen your back before."

"You have not!" she chided "Why I've either been in mourning or married or with child or….or well, in mourning."

"You're right my pet," he mused, "It's just hard for me to think that I'd never noticed them before." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her back. "They're barely there, but I can feel them, are they from your childhood?" He asked, hoping she would regale him with one of her entertaining stories of having grown up as a tom boy in her beloved Clayton County.

"No," she yawned again and shut her eyes. "They're from the war."

"The war?" His hand stilled on her back and he rested his broad warm palm against it. "What happened there?"

She sighed, "I'm sure I must have told you, it's from the Yankees, from when they tried to burn Tara."

"You never told me any such story honey," he whispered, his voice suddenly void of all amusement. "Why, I thought, you told me, your father had beaten the Yankees off before you even got back to Tara."

"Beaten them off," she laughed under her breath. "Oh, I'm sure Pa tried. He stood his ground; he kept those damn Yankee's from striking a single match. But this was a different time, and….I don't really wish to speak of it. Not now," she yawned again, "I'm so tired, leave me be Rhett."

"Scarlett," his voice took on a tone, she had never heard before; it was firm, and hard, yet at the same time oddly gentle, "please tell me how you got those marks."

"Very well, Rhett" she rolled to her side and faced him, pulling the sheet up modestly to her chin. Though they have been married less than a week, and there were a great many things she was still getting to know about him, she had learned quite quickly that he had an iron will, and when he wanted something from her he simply would not be deterred. She knew it was best to give in to him, then to pass the next hour trying to evade him, and end up only giving in to him in the end.

"It was after the war, at Tara. The Yankees had already come by and taken everything, everything we owned. Oh Rhett, not just the food, and the animals, but everything, even our clothes. One day, just as I had started thinking that maybe, just maybe we were finally going to make it, I heard the sound of hooves come thundering over the hill, it was Sally Fontaine, galloping full tilt screaming 'the Yankees are coming.'".

"Ahhh," he said sitting up in the darkened room and reaching for a cigar. "The sentinel." He said softly as he struck a match and lit it.

"I just knew I couldn't let them get everything we had left I knew it. Oh, I gathered what I could, and sent everyone off with whatever they could carry. I sent them down into the swamp, and I…Lord I wanted to go with them." She closed her eyes and she could see it all happening again. She could smell the smell of Tara, of her own grime and sweat, she could hear her own heart thumping as loudly as Sally's horse had sounded coming down the lane. Her mind had frozen but a fraction of a second in fear, and then she had risen, risen as she must to take control.

"_The horse! The cow! The pigs! They shant have them ! I won't let them have them."_

"_Take the pigs to the swamp. All of you. Quickly."_

"_Suellen, you and Careen fill the baskets with as much food as you can carry and get to the woods."_

"_Mammy, put the silver in the well."_

"_And Pork, take Pa with you. Don't ask me where! Anywhere! "_

She had barked out orders quickly. Sending everyone away, even sweet Melly, realizing once it was too late that she had been left in the house alone, with nothing but her young son and Melly's babe to face the Yankees.

"My word Scarlett," he said softly in the darkened room. "Who did you stay behind with?"

"I stayed alone." She replied as if in a dream. "I stayed behind with the children. Oh, I tried to get poor Wade to run, but he was terrified. He gripped my skirts and would not budge."

"I'm sure he was, darling." He whispered, "And I'm sure you were too." His hand reached up and gently stroked her back. Goddam it, he thought, I should have never left her alone. Never.

"I was terrified Rhett, and when those men marched in and…and…went through my house taking every last bit of everything with them. Why they ripped up sofas and feather beds, they slashed the portraits, they tore the curtains….I stood on the stairs watching…. watching as they plundered and stole and ruined what was left of my family home."

"Dear God Scarlett," he said in the darkness, stamping his cigar out so that he could pull her into his arms. She had been so young, too young to have faced this alone. She had been a child still. Strong willed and bull headed, but still a child.

She took a deep breath, and let herself relax in his arms. With Rhett's strong arms around her even the memories of Tara didn't seem so bad.

"The Sergeant took my wedding ring from me, and the earrings that Pa had given to Ma on their wedding. But the worst of it was my mother's golden thimble." She laughed to herself softly, remembering the many times she had seen that thimble flash. Through every talk, and reprimand she had ever gotten from her mother, she had been sewing and that thimble had shown. "It was my last memory of ma."

He tightened his grip around her waist and held her tightly to him. Perhaps it had been a mistake to make her recount this tale. He had never imagined that it could have gone quite like this for her. He would have never deserted her at Rough and ready had he known her mother would be gone and her father would be mad. Why he had imagined the O'Hara's welcoming their dear Scarlett with open arms. He had envisioned her being able to lift the yoke of responsibility she had worn so well those final days in Atlanta, and be able to hand it over to her Pa. Good Lord, he would have never left her to go home alone had he known.

"Anyhow," she continued with a short laugh, "When the men were finally done looting the upstairs, they came down, and one of them had Charles's sword in his hand. And little Wade, poor little Wade who was scared off his own shadow, saw his Pa's sword going and he screamed 'No! Mine.' Why, I couldn't let those bastards take his Pa's sword from him! It was the only thing he had left of Charles. So I begged and pleaded…and finally the Sergeant took it away from his man, and gave it back to me."

"That was incredibly brave of you darling." He pressed his lips to her hair.

"And incredibly stupid," she countered. "The young soldier was so angry, that he stormed out the back and set fire to the kitchen. I didn't realize until all the soldiers had gone. They had lit the cotton stores on fire too, so I …I didn't know. Oh Rhett, by the time I made it to the kitchen the walls were in flames. I set the baby on the floor outside by Wade and ran in alone trying to beat out the fire. Before I knew it my dress had caught fire, my hair…I beat at myself, at the kitchen…." She paused for a moment and shook her head softly against his chest, "When I came too I was laying outside with my head in Melly's lap."

"My God Scarlett!" he gasped quietly, "Are those all…burns?"

"I didn't know you could see them." She asked "Are they bad."

"They're not bad darling. No, you can barely see them, I just….I'm speechless my dear…I never knew… My God Scarlett, the Yankees set fire to you!"

"Well….in a way I guess they did. I never thought of it that way. I always felt that burning Tara was the same as burning me….worst, it was the same as burning me and all my kin."

He pulled her even closer and rested his face against her hair. "I wish I had never let you go that night darling! I wished it every night while I was fighting that damn stupid war. All for nothing, a sudden moment of patriotism, of pride, of fear…fear of being ashamed. Dammit Scarlett, one of the most shameful things I've ever done in my life was leaving you on that road. I've regretted it ever since."

She was quiet for a moment. Then slowly, hesitantly she raised a hand and rested it on his chest. She had never touched him there before, never in fact, had she laid a hand on a bare man's chest in her life. "I hated you so much for that Rhett. I think a day didn't go by during those first months that I didn't wish you dead and damn your soul to hell. And if you've done more shameful things than that Rhett Butler than I shudder to think."

He laughed softly in the dark, "Oh my pet, I sure am glad the Lord wasn't listening to you those months. I did come pretty close to leaving my hide up North. And, I dare say, you've received your fair share of shameful treatment at my hands."

Swiftly he turned them over so that he was on top of her, and he could gaze down into her eyes. "I'm sorry Scarlett," he said as he leaned to kiss her, "Forgive me. "He said between chaste kisses, "Forgive me."

That night Scarlett lay awake nestled in his arms. It was the first time that he had ever fallen asleep before her, and she quite enjoyed the moment of peace; the darkened room, his steady heartbeat below her head, the gentle rise of his chest, and his soft quiet steady snores. She thought back on all those horrid days at Tara. Days that were a string of hunger, and cold and exhaustion, never ending, but blurring one into the other until they seemed like one long endless nightmare.

She wondered if she should have told him so much about the horrors she had faced. Rhett always played his cards close to his chest, and she felt nervous now, nervous that she had opened up to him as she did.

She sighed and burrowed deeper into his hold. Even in his sleep, she mused; he wrapped his arms around her and did not budge.

The next morning Scarlett woke to find her husband clothed, and groomed and freshly shaven, sitting on a chaise besides the bed, with a hot breakfast tray beside him.

"Good morning, my dear" he said raising an eyebrow and pulling his pocket watch out, making a show to look at it, "or dare I say good afternoon!"

"My word," she yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand and sinking down into the covers, "Is it really afternoon?"

"No," he laughed, "But almost. Good thing, I just got back, or your breakfast would have been ice cold by now." He smiled, pouring some coffee into a small china cup for her.

"Have you already been out?" she asked, as she reached towards her coffee, and stopped, hand in midair, above a small velvet box which was placed on the tray. "Rhett?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, "what is this?" she asked picking it up.

"Now, I know it's not the same Scarlett," he said, as his dark eyes squinted slightly and fixed upon hers. "But, I thought…"

Slowly she opened the box, "Oh Rhett !" she cried out, as she looked down to see a perfect golden thimble , nestled in the blue velvet box.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you so much to all of you that have reviewed these snippets. Yes maybe in time I will try to combine them into a story, or write something different alltogether. For now...here is a darker moment. A fight, a very big one, that I felt could have, or should have happened in the book. I hate to beg, but if you are reading...please review !_

**The Family Way**

It had been one week since she had told him she was with child; One week since she had stormed into the room with enough venom to kill them all.

"I could kill you!" she had spat at him, murder in her green eyes. Before she went about stomping and screaming, and letting him know in no uncertain terms, that she would absolutely not be having his child.

"Oh, there are things to do;" she had shouted "I'm not the stupid country fool I used to be. Now I know that a woman doesn't have to have children if she doesn't want them!"

They had shouted and fought with one another, and hurled insults and untruths. And finally, a truce of sorts had been formed.

A cold hard truce. She would indeed carry the child to term. He knew that despite those angry hateful words, she would indeed carry the child to term.

But now a week had gone by, and she remained as sullen and rigid and hateful, as she had been on day one. She refused to address him in any way, and answered curtly only when it was an absolute necessity. She donned her corsets, laced as tightly as always despite his pleading, and declined her meals more often than not.

At first he had refused to bend remotely to her will. Why, it was she who had hurled at him the greatest insult of all. The greatest insult any woman could give to a man; "I will not carry your child."

He had considered leaving, taking Wade along as he had done in the past, and letting her cool off and come to her senses. But he had been afraid. When Scarlett was seized by the famous O'Hara temper, there was no knowing what she would do. And now, coupled with the mood swings brought on by her condition. Why she might indeed try to harm herself or the child.

He had treated her kindly, but coldly. Bowing his head briskly, and staying out of her way. He had come home late several evenings, and when he had tried to slip into the bed with her she had turned to face him and uttered coldly, "haven't you done enough damage already?"

Damn her, if she thought that she could shut him out for the next nine months!

It was after a week of this, a solid and very long week that he had finally had enough. He knew that if a bridge was to be built between them, it was he that would have to do the building.

So finally, on a quiet evening, following a day of little contact between them, he approached; waving a white flag.

"Scarlett," he said softly, trying to call a truce, "Let me call mammy up with a dinner tray for you. You shouldn't skip meals, not in your condition."

"Oh," she dropped her brush on the dressing table. "How concerned you are Captain Butler. You've certainly decided to keep a closer eye on your venture as of late, especially now, now that it could put out more than you originally bargained for."

"Dear God woman, you know I didn't mean that. We've both said plenty of things we didn't mean to each other in this marriage."

"Like what?" She turned to face him, and her anger burned brightly in her eyes. "Like that you didn't care for me at all, like I was nothing more than an investment to you!"

"Stop it Scarlett!" he said, "You know it isn't true. Of course I care for you. You are my wife! Of course I care about you, you and the child. I said something stupid, something to anger you…to get back at you"

"Get back at me!" she asked incredulous, "Why would you be getting back at me? It should be I who is angry with you!"

He shook his head and laughed softly under his breath, "You are such a child Scarlett, a child who knows not how sharp her words can be, and how deeply they will cut."

"You told me, you didn't care about having children, and you knew I wanted none!" she cried out.

"It's true," he said reaching for a glass, and pouring himself a brandy from the ornate decanter in their room. "I did not ask for children, but this child is coming nonetheless."

"Dammit" she shouted, "You could have….have don't things to avoid it!"

He took a long hard sip, then put the glass down and leveled his gaze on her "As could you."

She stared into his cold black, eyes and then narrowed her own to mere slits. "You vile pig!" she seethed, "with your reputation in whore houses, I'm sure you are well aware of how to avoid getting a woman with child."

His jaw clenched tightly, and she could see the muscles working underneath the skin. His long dark fingers gripped the glass. "I would not use those methods with my wife."

Her fingers went up to her throat. While she was well aware of her husband's past, she had never actually thought about the mechanics of it, it had seemed more like a tall tale ,something fictitious about somebody else. Now to think that her husband had actually employed methods…methods to avoid… She could not think of such things.

"You sicken me." She said frankly.

"Apparently I do." He laughed, "I sicken you so much you will not carry my child."

"I'm sure there are plenty of whores that would." She said under her breath.

He stood. His blood was boiling with rage; he finished his drink in one swift swill, and poured himself another.

"Yes," he answered curtly, "and they would cost me much less than you."

She leapt to her feet and ran across the room "How dare you!" she shouted, and her tiny hand shot out from her side and slapped him hard across the face. "How dare you say such a thing to me?"

His hand went up and rubbed his cheek absently. There would be a mark. He raised his glass and took another sip, swallowing hard before meeting her eyes. "You hurt me and I hurt you. Is that how we play my pet?"

"I hurt you?" she seethed, "Ha! Why that's rich Captain Butler, I didn't know you were capable of being hurt. I didn't think you were capable of feeling anything."

"God dammit Scarlett!" he shouted and he turned suddenly and flung his glass into the fire place. Drops of brandy and shards of glass flew about the room. His face was dark with rage, and his black hair fell over one eye. "You told me you wanted to kill my child! "

Scarlett thought that in all her years of knowing him she had never seen him quite this angry. In fact he hadn't even ever come close. Most of their fights had ended with him throwing his head back and laughing at her, or at the very most, his face would become blank, and providing a short bow he had stormed out of the room.

She had never seen his eyes grow dark with such a rage that it caused her blood to run cold. She had never been afraid of him.

"I…I never said that." She answered.

"Don't lie to me witch! You stormed in here so angry about your condition! Oh you were spewing ways in which you would get rid of this child, either by flushing it from your body or…. Or having it plucked!"

Her face paled at his words "You know I never would…"

"I know no such thing!" He turned and took her by the arm. "I only know that you sat in my parlor with that whore Mamy Bart and discussed ways to terminate my child. Damn you Scarlett!" He shouted as he squeezed her arm tightly.

"Let me go Rhett," she pleaded, "You're hurting me."

He pulled her close, so that her face was inches from his. She could feel his breath warm on her face and smelling of Brandy. His eyes were narrowed and searching. "You gave birth to two other men's children," he said through clenched teeth, "yet you speak of killing mine." With that he dropped her arm and walked briskly towards the door.

"Don't!" she screamed running ahead of him and standing with her back to the door.

""Move out of the way Scarlett!" He glowered, "Move or by God, I'll throw you across the room."

"You won't!" she said, her heart was thumping madly, and she was seized, seized by a cold fear and a guilt that ran through her blood like a sickness. She had spoken the most heartless things aloud. Said thoughts that most women rarely ever think, and she had thrown those words like daggers to his heart. "You won't hurt me any more than you'll hurt this child." She whispered, knowing it was true. "I never spoke to Mamy or anyone about this child Rhett. I never did…I wouldn't…you're the first to know…I swear it! " Her words stumbled out quickly, tripping over one another in a rush to escape her mouth. "Those things I said…those vile awful things…I didn't know….I didn't think…"

"You knew, you knew and you thought well and hard," he laughed, "And I will admit defeat…your sharp words did indeed pierce my armor." He took her by the arm and pulled her aside, "now move aside Scarlett, and let me by…you've made your feelings regarding….er…me…quite clear this evening." He ran his free hand over his black hair, "I think I will seek company where I am wanted." He said as he walked briskly out the door.

Scarlett sank to her knees and cried. This evening certainly did not go as she planned.

She awoke later that evening, after having cried herself to sleep, unable to eat, despite Mammy's presence at the door holding a tray. Mammy, dear mammy was the only one of the servants who had the courage to face Captain Butler, or Scarlett after their terrible fights.

Scarlett had lain in her bed that night thinking of her mother. Dear, sweet Ellen O'Hara, mama, who had given birth to six children happily and buried three. Oh how her mother would roll in her grave at the mere thought that Scarlett had conceived those thoughts, much less spoken them to her husband. Why, to flush an unborn child from your womb, certainly that was a sin worth dying for.

And her Pa, Gerald O'Hara. Surely she had inherited her temper from him, for she remembered easily his quick fiery rages and angry words that came spouting out as if he had no control over them. He shouted often to the slaves of whippings and punishments so harsh, they should have made their skin crawl, but they had just bowed their heads respectfully to him, knowing he would never wield a whip. Oh Pa, he had been able to hold some restraint against his tongue, for in all her years she had never seen his anger rise against her mother.

And she shuddered with a fresh wave of tears when she recalled her father, a beacon of strength, crouched on his knees weeping by her mother's bed side. His third son had been born lifeless. "No more Ellen," he had sobbed, "I cannot bury another child! I cannot bear it!"

And what had she done, told her husband that she would kill his child. Good Lord, her blood ran cold.

And now, after a heavy hearted night of bad memories and fitful sleep, she awoke in the darkened room, to find her husband sitting on the edge of the bed at her feet. His jacket and cravat were off, his crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck glowed in the darkened room, his usually perfect hair was mussed and hanging over one eye.

"I'm awake you know." She whispered.

"I can see that." He answered softly. His large hands sat folded in his lap.

"Where you at Belle's?" She asked. He nodded once, and opened his mouth to speak. Scarlett raised a finger to silence him. "I need to know the truth," she said softly, "Where you with a woman?"

He looked at her in the dark, her simple white sleeping gown, her dark tresses splayed across the pillow, her squarish chin, and pouty lips. Good Lord, how did this woman come to have such a hold upon his heart?

He shook his head no, "I was not." He whispered.

"Are you angry?" she asked quietly, raising her eyes to meet his.

He blinked slowly in the darkness and nodded once. "Yes, I am."

She reached her hand out to him and he scooted forward, taking it in his. "I…" she started; she hated apologizing, especially for her rages, which came on so swiftly, they were beyond her control. "I… didn't mean those things." She started. "Not really, I get so angry…words just come out before I can stop them. Especially with you Rhett, I can say anything to you."

He squeezed her hand lightly. "Not anything."

"No," she nodded. "Not anything. And I know that now, and those things I said…Oh God Rhett, you must hate me."

He shook his head, and let out a long soundless whistle. "You're a cruel woman, my dear, but I don't think I could hate you if I tried…not for long anyway."

"But you have tried haven't you?"

"Oh I have, especially tonight. You cut me quite deeply my pet, but I heal quickly." He said.

'This child," she started, sitting up in bed. "It's not that… well, I never wanted any child, despite the father. And with you, well it was stupid I know, considering your…ah…ardor, but I had told you I didn't want children, and well, you had agreed, so I thought…I thought that …"

He laughed softly, "Sometimes you are a child Scarlett, it takes more than talk to stop a child from forming. Had I known, you were quite this serious about the matter, I would have…well… discussed our options."

She leaned forward and hid her face in her hands. "And now I have nine months of sickness and exhaustion, and swelling, swelling until I resemble a pig."

He raised a hand and rested it upon her leg. "You were quite beautiful when you were with Ella." He said softly. "And this time there will be no worries, you can rest all you want darling."

"And the pains." She continued, as if she had not heard him. "The pains, of the birth, I can't face them again. I can't."

"You can." He whispered, rubbing her leg softly, "You can, and you will. And I will do everything in my power to try to ease them. I will be by your side Scarlett; you won't be alone this time."

She had been afraid, he thought to himself, Afraid of so many things. That is why she had lashed out to him.

"And," she tried to hold back the tears that started forming in her eyes. "How can I bring forth a child who is so unwanted, so unloved?"

"Stop it my pet," he said softly, leaning forward to take her in his arms. "This child will be cherished. It will be loved like no other."

"Oh Rhett," she started crying softly, "How can you hold me like this, how can you care for me after…after everything I've said tonight, this past week?"

"Come now Scarlett," he laughed softly, his hands running gently up and down her back, "I knew what I was getting into when I wed you. You have often wielded your sharp tongue and temper towards me." He paused for a moment to pull her away and kiss her tear stained cheeks. "Granted, this lashing was a bit harder than even I expected, but I will get over it. Hush now, I have a tough enough hide."

"You are so nice to me." She said into his neck. "You forgive so quickly."

"I do. I do, now move over Scarlett," he whispered, as his hands went up to the buttons on his shirt. "I will not sleep in the parlor another night."

After, when they lay together quietly, it did not go unnoticed by either of them that that their hands lay laced together above her middle .


	5. Chapter 5

_I guess I really like writing these snippets. They practically right themselves. This one, could have probably changed the course of everything...Ah too bad. Warning - I think all of these will end on a happy note. To those following "collateral" more to come shortly. To HellenSES- Thank you, you reviews mean alot...Enjoy and let me know what you think._

**Remorse**

She stood by her open door and listened as his heavy footsteps clambered up the stairs. It had been two months since she had cast him out of her room. Two months since she had foolishly followed her ill thought out plan and cast him away.

What a fool she had been! Ashley knew nothing of her new 'marital condition' and there was, of course, no way to let him know. And while he still lay at home with Melly in his arms, she spent all of her evenings alone.

She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she missed Rhett dearly. He had provided her with hours of enjoyment and amusement, always with an interesting tale or two when they lay in bed. Always, willing and happy to listen to her recount stories of her own past. Why, he seemingly never tired of her tales, whether they be about her sisters, or her childhood or her beaus. He had always kept every detail straight, he had listened attentively while she lay in his arms and talked, chuckling, and petting her and….Good Lord she missed him so!

And the 'relations', she missed those as well, she couldn't think of such things, she mustn't…but she did. When she lay in her bed alone at night, she did think of them. Of the way he had touched her, and loved her, and made her feel. Oh he had been so gentle and tender always with her. Why she had never even thought a man could take a woman as tenderly as he took her. The whispered endearments in her hair, the kisses, hundreds of kisses, and caresses! And afterwards, oh the way he had held her in his arms until she had fallen asleep to the sound of his beating heart.

To think that now it was all gone. To think that he behaved that way with the women at Belle's! Possibly with Belle herself! Often times he never came home at all. Not until mornings, and he was always pressed and clean shaven. To think that he had slept in another woman's bed! A whore's bed. Oh, had he stroked them as gently and tenderly as he had done to her? Why had she been such a fool!

All this so that she could pursue a fantasy, a fantasy with Ashley. For that is all it was really, it was nothing more than pure fantasy. He gave up nothing, he never had, and she gave up everything. And, now, not only did he not know that she no longer shared a bed with her husband, she suspected that he knew quite well, as did most of Atlanta, that her husband shared the beds of every whore under Belle's roof. Oh what a fool she'd been! What a terrible childish fool!

And now, she stood at her open doorway, listening to his foot falls, emboldened only by the drink she sipped alone by the fire, as she did most nights.

"Why Scarlett," he said surprised, as he reached the landing, "still awake so late, is everything alright?"

"Yes," she answered, "Yes, it is…. I was just…awake, and I heard you come in…" her voice faded.

He approached her doorway and peered in. "Fire, ablaze, brandy on the table, are you expecting company my dear?"

He could be so scornful; he always managed to take all hopes of a civil conversation from her. "You know, I'm not!"

"I know nothing of your habits as of late." He said leaning against the wall besides her door. "For all I know you have the honorable Mr. Wilkes in there with you."

"Must you be so hateful!" she cried out, "You know I would never…."

"He would never. You on the other hand," he shrugged casually, "I'm not so sure."

"Don't be a cad. I've never been unfaithful in this marriage, you on the other hand…." She leaned forward and smelled his lapel. "You smell like a whore."

His laughter was cold and loud in the empty hallway, "Perhaps it is because I recently had one draped against my chest."

She struck him hard against the face. The sting of it burning her own palm, and she turned quickly towards her room.

He rubbed his cheek and followed her in shutting the door behind him. "Ouch! That smarts Scarlett. I do say you've perfected that slap of yours; I'll have to be keener on keeping my face out of range. I believe I'll have a mark tomorrow."

"Please leave." She said coldly, her back to him, her face towards the fire.

He was silent for a moment, as his hand continued to absently rub his cheek. He could see her silhouette in her nightdress against the orange glow of the fire. She was beautiful, a beautiful witch. She had managed to turn everything into bitterness, not a word passed between them lately that wasn't covered in sarcasm, dripping with spite. Ahh, how had she done this to him?

"It's my first time in the 'inner sanctum' in months my pet." He responded calmly. Perhaps he had goaded her too much with the comment of the whore. Perhaps it had stung her too deeply. "Can we not share a drink before I'm asked to leave?"

"No." He could hear the effort it took to keep her voice steady.

"Come now Scarlett," he whispered, approaching her frame, "we've never guarded our words with one another, why the cold shoulder now?"

She kept her back to him, but raised a hand and pressed it to her brow. He would not break her. Not now, not ever. Let him have his whores, she thought, he's become so accustomed to their company; he can no longer even recall how it once was between us.

When she found her voice it came out like steel, "Forgive me, I don't wish to hear about your whores."

He bowed his head slightly. "No, forgive me, that was uncalled for."

"As are your nightly habits of perusing the local brothels, though that does not stop you." She said turning to face him.

"It is you who cast me from your bed" he said walking to the table and pouring out two drinks. "I did not leave of my own accord."

"I did not think you would so easily find a whore to replace me!"

He laughed "Did you think I would remain chaste? Lie at your door like a faithful hound? I've told you before my dear, I'm not one of your country beaus, and I will never behave as such."

"No," she snapped, "You certainly won't. You've made that quite clear, and though I never expect you to behave honorably and like a…a…gentleman…I certainly did not expect that you would dispel all of your vows to me so quickly….and without remorse."

He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "What vows? Oh, do you speak of our wedding vows my pet?" he asked casually. "I don't believe I ever pledged fidelity, correct me if I'm wrong."

"You varmint, you pledged to…to honor me."

"Am I not honoring your wishes by staying out of your bed?" He asked, the side of his mouth rising in rakish grin, "I thought I was."

"Oh don't play me for a fool Rhett," she started, "you know, that I never once expected you to take up with every whore in Atlanta."

"I haven't," he said calmly, raising the glass to his lips, and pausing as his eyes rested on hers. "Oh, I've found my pleasures," he continued calmly, "But perhaps I haven't been quite as liberal as you suspect."

"Can you not control you're…your…passions, why what kind of man are you?" she gasped

Anger boiled deeply in his blood. How dare she, how dare she question his manhood, his control. Why, he who had waited years to have her in his bed. He, who could have easily charmed her, or bought her ,or any combination of the two during the war years. He, who had curbed his most ardent desires between the sheets in order to respect her.

"I would thank you not to question my 'control' in these matters Scarlett." He said briskly, "I never once shared my bed with another while you respected your wifely duties. When you informed me that my advances would no longer be….appreciated, I did not choose to force you, as I could have done, I simply chose to seek my pleasures elsewhere."

"Do you not care?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch, "that the half of Atlanta knows you are out seeking your pleasures, in other women's beds?"

"Oh," He took a quick sip, "so, it is the fact, that I've been less than discreet that has you so bothered. Well, if you so desire I can spend my nights out entirely, so the half of Atlanta will not see me sauntering home at…" with this he pulled out his pocket watch and read the dial, "half past one. But don't think for a minute dear wife that I will use the servant's entrance in my own home!"

"You're despicable." She seethed.

"Good Lord woman," he laughed again, "what exactly did you think would happen when you cast me from your bed?"

"I didn't." she said frankly, her eyes meeting his with quiet resolve.

"You didn't?" he repeated, with a chuckle, as his eyebrows rose in surprise. "Why Scarlett, that doesn't sound like you! You are quite honestly one of the most proficient connivers I have ever met."

She reached out and took a small sip of her drink. Was he waving a white flag? Was he offering up a truce? If so, perhaps she would take it. She had grown much too tired of this constant hateful banter. "Well, "she said "Even the best of us slip up sometimes."

His eyes narrowed and they fixed on hers. "Do I detect a note of remorse?" he asked softly.

"Perhaps," she answered with a small shrug of her shoulders. "I'm not sure."

"You're not sure or you won't admit it?" He asked, his eyes fixing on hers. He was pushing her again, forcing her to go against her Irish pride, a pride so strong that it would rather keep her husband in bed with whores than admit remorse.

"Does it really matter?" she countered, her eyebrow raised in a delicate arch, her face an impassive mask.

He looked at her for a long time before he placed his drink back down on the table, and shook his head. "No," he said softly, "It does not."

She didn't say anything. She looked at him, and her hand shook so much around the glass that he had to take a step forward and steady it. "Are you inviting me back into your bed?" he asked, his hand clasped around hers as he gently pulled the glass away and placed it on the table.

He was so close, so intoxicatingly close. She could smell the scent of whiskey and cigars and…and… women, the cheap unmistakable perfume of wanton women. "I cannot take you from a whore's bed to mine!"

"Scarlett." He whispered. "I did not take a woman tonight."

Her hands shook in front of her, and she could feel her blood pounding in her heart. She closed her eyes, "And on the other nights?" she asked in a whisper, "Did you take one then?"

There was no answer that he could give her lest the truth. "Yes," he said quietly, "some nights I did."

She gasped and her hand flew to her mouth, she felt her heart heave. She had known it. Of course she had, she wasn't a fool, and he had made no secret of it. But to hear it uttered so softly from his mouth, in frankness, and not contempt. She could not bear it!

He took her hand from her mouth and held it pressed against his own. "Scarlett," he said softly, "you cast me out. You found my ardor to coarse for you, for your 'genteel' pursuit of Mr. Wilkes. Ahh, you preferred to remain chaste rather than subject yourself to my…advances." He took a deep slow breath, "So, I found ….consolation, for that is all it was, elsewhere."

She shook her head. "You could have withheld yourself." She whispered, trying to pull away.

He held her hand tightly. "But I did not. I did not, but I am here now."

"Rhett let go" she said trying to step away.

"I am here now," he said again, holding fast to her hand and pulling her towards him, "And I wish to be invited, back into your bed."

She shook her head, "I cannot."

"You can" he said stepping closer, until their bodies were pressed together.

His scent was intoxicating. Her head was swimming. She was falling, falling into a precipice, and then All of a sudden she understood everything, everything at once, it came rushing at her and her mind had no choice but to grasp it, grasp it and understand it. This man would never bow to her or plead to her or bend to her will, he was so much like her…too much like her. And the only choice she had, was to accept him….or let him go.

He stood still before her, "I will not beg." He said simply.

How could she! How could she invite him into her bed. She could not utter those words to any man, not even her husband. She couldn't. She couldn't.

He saw the struggle pass through her eyes, and in an instant, he bowed his head lightly and decided to change the outcome of the evening, of their future. In a move he often wondered, if he would regret, he raised her hand to his lips and pressed it lightly to them. "Am I welcome?" He asked.

She nodded once before stepping into his embrace.

It was two weeks until they resumed their relations. She had lain in his arms every night, yet he made no attempt to touch her. She didn't dare question his reasons, nor did she initiate anything herself. When he did finally reach out to her he did so tentatively, tenderly, there was an apology in his eyes, and though he never spoke it she could see that he regretted every woman he had been with since. She went easily in his arms, her face hidden in his neck, her pleasure muffled against his skin. And though she never spoke of her remorse, he could see in her eyes how happy she was in having him back.


	6. Chapter 6

_Here is another one. For some reason their bedroom behavior seems to intrigue me lately. They are so, so different in that department, I often wonder how they managed. Once again, these two took the story from me and ran. This was supposed to be all lovey-dovey, but they just can't stop bickering, and they don't even care, when it's me who's writing them! A special call out to rx9872, thanks for reviewing each and every snippet! And to the rest…_

_As I used to say in another life….Reviews are my muse!_

**Ego and Sentiment**

They had just finished making love and Scarlett, sweaty and flushed lay sprawled against his chest. He had one hand wrapped around her hip and the other played lazily with her hair. Rhett Butler was happy, as happy as he had been in years, and he chuckled softly to himself at the thought that this young little "southern belle" could bring him so much contentment. "Ahhh" he sighed deeply as he pulled her closer, what had he done to himself?

"What?" she asked drowsily and he could feel her warm breath on his chest.

"I didn't say anything my pet." He drawled.

"…you sighed…." She yawned.

"I certainly did not." He laughed.

Scarlett pulled herself up from his chest, and her bright green eyes danced in the moonlight as she smiled down at him. "You did, you took a breath and then sighed, just like this…. 'Ahhh'".

"Perhaps I was simply trying to get some air," he replied, a smile pulling on the corner of his lip. "I seem to have a sizeable weight across my chest."

"Sizable!" she exclaimed. "Why you….perhaps you'd rather have no weight at all!" she said curtly as she began to pull herself off him.

"No, no, no!" he laughed. "Forgive me my pet; I erred greatly in my word choice. I love having this feather like weight across my chest." He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back to him.

"My word Captain Butler, first you sigh and then you speak of love" she said coyly, "I've managed to turn you into a schoolboy in just a few short days."

"It's more the nights that have had an effect, if any." He mumbled.

She rested her square chin upon his chest. "Oh don't try to bait me Captain Butler," she continued. "I won't let you change the subject quite so easily this time. Has it really taken less than a week for me to reduce this great big man into a love sick pup?" she laughed.

"Good Lord Scarlett, all I did was take a breath!"

"Yes you did" she smiled, and her eyebrows shot up, "You took a great big giant breath followed by a sigh! So tell me husband," she continued with a smirk, "what does make you so sentimental on this evening?"

"You are goading me my vixen." He replied with a smile.

She looked up at him and frowned, her lips forming a perfect pout, "No, I don't think it is the goading that has raised such a deep sentiment."

He laughed and shook his head, raising his hand to brush delicately through her hair.

"Well?" she asked an eyebrow rising up, "pray tell what is the cause of all this….sighing?"

His eyes narrowed and they fixed on hers, a small smile played upon his lips, two can play at this game he thought. "Can a man not be happy?" he asked lightly.

"And what is the cause of all this happiness? Is it perhaps your newlywed wife?" she asked with a sly smile.

Ah, he thought, how easily a vixen can fall into her own trap. "If you must know," he answered smoothly, "I am sighing out of shear contentment for having spent the past several hours making love to my beautiful wife!"

Her cheeks turned the most delicious shade of pink and her eyes blazed open. "Good Lord Rhett, "she nearly shouted, "How dare you speak of such things!"

Now it was his turn to play innocent, "What things?" he drawled, "Oh the joys of our intimacies? But it is the recollection of those tender moments that makes me sigh."

"Well," she snapped, attempting to slide off his chest. "You mustn't speak of them…or…or recall them."

He laughed openly and squeezed her in his arms, shutting his eyes. "I am recalling the most exquisite moment right now my pet."

She shot up and pulled the sheet to her chin. "Don't you dare Rhett Butler? Why…open your eyes, open them!"

He smiled, his big lazy smile and stretched beneath the sheets like a giant cat in the noonday sun, "I'd prefer to keep them closed my dear, your current angry countenance is interfering with my lovely recollections."

"You are impossible!" she snapped and smacking him on the chest, rolled to her side.

He laughed for a moment and then fell silent. Her anger always rose to the surface so rapidly; she was like a burning ember that only needed minimal stoking in order to turn into a blaze.

"Come on my pet," he whispered rolling to face her back, "Don't get angry, I was just playing."

"Well," she countered, "I was not enjoying your game."

"Don't be a child Scarlett," he laughed, "you enjoyed teasing me! You're only angry that I managed to get the upper hand so quickly!"

"I am angry that you would be such an ill-mannered cad. You cannot speak of such things. It isn't proper!"

"Well," he countered, "it was you who insisted on knowing every last detail in regards to the very cause of my….er…..sighing."

"Well, I did not think the reasons would be quite so…obscene."

He laughed and pulled her towards him, "since when is making love to your wife considered obscene?" He asked.

"Don't," she pried his arm away from her waist. "I'm not…comfortable with this."

He let go and sat up propped on an elbow, his head resting in his hand. "Come now Scarlett, a moment ago you were sprawled against my chest engaged in a lovely game of teasing; now all of a sudden you pull from my arms and speak of discomfort."

"I will not speak of relations." She said curtly. "It is bad enough that I must engage in them, I will certainly not make merriment of the matter."

"Bad enough!" he asked, his hand reaching out to touch her shoulders. "It seems to me you quite enjoy them. Am I wrong?"

"It is my duty." She answered quietly, "and I won't discuss it."

"You duty?" he repeated dumbfounded. "Scarlett, I do not wish you to partake in our marital relations simply because you feel it is your…duty. Dear God, do you not enjoy my advances?"

Oh goodness, she had ventured into forbidden territory, very forbidden indeed. Why, she never understood how things like this always seemed to happen with Rhett. One moment they would be talking about something, laughing and joking as if it was the lightest topic on Earth, and then one small turn, one wrong word, and they were veering off either arguing, or venturing down these forbidden paths.

Of course she enjoyed her relations with him. He was gentle and tender and caring, and, good Lord she turned a deep crimson just thinking of how she enjoyed their night time adventures. But she knew it wasn't right for a woman to feel these things, it was terribly ill bred for ladies to feel any such pleasures. Why she had been through two prior marriages before, and she had barely endured relations with either of those husbands. This time around she simply couldn't grasp how he had managed to turn her mind on the topic. And no matter how he pried, she would never reveal her new found zest to him. Never, she would, in fact, prefer to die!

"I won't speak of it." She replied simply.

"You must! "He insisted, his brow furrowing. He knew women, and he knew when they were pleased, there was no denying that Scarlett had been more than pleased beneath his touch. To be fair, it had taken a bit of coaxing, to ease her into the more intimate aspect of their marital status. But he was certain, certain, that she had reveled under his ministrations. Why, her body had responded, much against all her futile attempts to tamp down on her urges, and she had melted under his touch. And despite all her lip bighting, she had even managed to let out a few gasps and inadvertent moans. Why, she had been pleased! He was sure of it!

"I certainly must not !" she snapped, sitting up with one hand holding the sheet pressed up against her chest and the other fumbling around the covers until she found her nightgown. In one swift move she slid it on and threw the covers off her form.

"It is the middle of the night Scarlett," he chuckled softly, despite her obvious ire, "where is it exactly that you intend to go?"

"As far away from you as possible!" she replied coldly sliding into her wrap. "Even if it is simply the sitting room."

He lay back and folded both his arms beneath his head. Why on earth was she upset, he wondered. Good Lord, it's not as if they were discussing marital relations prior to having engaged in any. And it's not as if he had made reference to anything….specific... or shameful. Why they had often enjoyed much more vulgar jokes than these, and she had simply scowled before bursting into a fit of laughter. He had really no idea why the mere mention of their relations would throw her into such a complete tizzy.

He rolled onto his side, and looked at the soft candlelight the glowed from underneath the sitting room door. It wasn't really her reaction that bothered him so, for he knew she was quite hot headed, and there had been countless of seemingly innocent conversations that had ended up with either one of the storming off. Though usually, he chuckled to himself, it had been him who had offered her a short, curt bow and had removed himself from the situation.

This time rather, what bothered him the most was the fact that she had insinuated that their sexual relations were simply a matter of duty for her. He knew it shouldn't bother him, that it was simply a matter of vanity that it did so, but still. Why had she said that? Then there was a thought that niggled in the corner of his mind, he himself had been with women, that though did not necessarily please him, had managed to elicit the desired physical response from his body.

Was he merely generating a physical response from her? Was her mind and heart so closed off to him, that she saw nothing intimate from their relations. Good Lord this woman managed to worm her way into his deepest thoughts. Slowly he took a deep breath, and slid into his black silken robe. He would not lie in bed alone going in circles all night.

He found her curled up on the settee, facing a fire that had died out long ago.

"Scarlett," he said softly, standing beside her, "Come back to bed, you'll catch a chill."

She did not respond, but continued to stare into the ashes. Not knowing how on earth a simple game of goading had ended up this way. And, even worst, not knowing how she could possibly gather all the yarn she had unraveled so quickly.

Rhett was different from most men, all men. No subject was off topic for him. There seemed nothing too shameful of private to discuss, and when it came to intimacies; he would go on forever if he could. Good lord, he wanted to know everything, had he hurt her, had he pleased her, was she happy? And things she would not even think of in the darkest most private corner of her mind, he would want to speak of.

"Would you like me to start a fire?" he asked gently, "It will take but a minute, and it will warm you."

"No," she answered softly, all the anger seemingly having left her. "I like the cold."

He scooted her feet to the side and sat on the edge of the settee. "I did not think that type of talk would upset you so." He said simply.

She made no reply.

He took her hand gently between his and pressed it to his lips, "I'm a bit upset myself, if I may say so." he added with a smile, and a chuckle.

"Well." She laughed briskly, "I would think by now you would be accustomed to me getting angry and storming out." She paused for a moment before adding, "And if you're not I suggest you become so, quickly, for I suspect our 'blissful union' will have quite a few of these moments."

'It's not your storming out that has…upset …me, but rather the cause."

"Ah, a blow to your ego." She said simply.

"No," he answered slowly, knowing he must tread carefully here. "Not my ego. Though I admit, it was quite trampled."

She made no reply, and failed to meet his eyes.

"Scarlett," he said softly as he stroked her palm gently with his thumb. "I must know. Do you really feel it is your 'duty' to partake in our relations?"

She closed her eyes, regretting the moment she had let that errant comment fly. "But it is isn't it? It is often even describes as such, 'a wifely duty'".

"Well," he guffawed, "It may be described as such by fools, but I certainly hope that you know you have no such 'duty' to me." Here he paused and stood, offering out his hand. "Now, I know you wish to not speak of this, so I will stop, if you so desire. But, please know my wife, that I never want our….unions to be out of….obligation." He motioned for her to take his hand. "Come now my pet, come back to bed. You'll catch your death of a cold out here." She rose and he tucked her hand under his arm for the short walk back into their room. "Then not only will I be guilty of having caused you to leave our matrimonial bed in a huff, but of having caused you illness as well."

"Thank you," Scarlett said, releasing his arm as he folded the sheets back for her. "For someone with your …er….reputation, I would have never thought you would be so…understanding."

He laughed softly as he disrobed and slid in besides her. "It is not mere understanding my pet" he said, as he reached out for her and pulled her to him, "I would be remiss if I did not confess that there is also a bit of my, so called, ego at play here."

"You ego?" she asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "One would think that would make you behave in quite the opposite way."

He laughed lightly in the darkened room. "No, it would certainly not stroke my ego to be the type of man who forces his wife into 'enduring' their most intimate moments. Indeed, I would hope my wife would come to me willingly."

"And if she did not?" She asked, recalling both of her previous marriages, in which she had never willingly done a thing. Not that she had been taken by force, not ever, but it had certainly been a most horrid chore.

"Well, if she did not, then I presume I would have to wait, keep my distance, and hope that in time she might recall that perhaps my advances had been quite nice after all." He answered smugly. She was playing cat and mouse with him now, and he knew it. Lord this woman was willing to dangle anything over his head, to get her way.

"Ah," she yawned, "yes, I understand now. I've been through this before."

"How so?" he asked wrapping his arm about her waist.

"When I was a child," she yawned, "I once refused to attend mass; Pa got so angry, he picked me up and tossed me in the wagon besides my sisters. But Mother, oh she had a much more gentle nature. She let me simply wait at Tara until my sisters' return. Week after week they all loaded in the wagon without even a glance my way and took off without me. They would return smiling and happy, from Jonesboro while I had spent the day alone on the front porch. After about a month I cried and pleaded for them to take me along. I never once complained about mass again."

He laughed aloud in the dark and leaned down to kiss her hair. "You never cease to entertain me my pet. While I never assumed you would be crying and pleading for my advances, I certainly hoped it would take less than a month!"

"Well its true.," she said laughing, recalling those long boring days sitting on the dusty porch, her chin held high, defiant to the bitter end., "it took at least a month!"

"My little vixen," he laughed. "You've been goading me all along, haven't you? Haven't you?"

She threaded her fingers through his and pulled his hand more tightly around her. "You know I haven't Rhett," she said sleepily, "and besides it was all your doing, in the future I would thank you to not be quite so…sensitive….about your ego, I made one errant comment and you became as angry as a wet hen."

"I can assure you I am no hen!" he snorted "You made a comment, I reacted appropriately…I have absolutely no call to be ….sensitive in regards to my masculinity! I was simply trying to be….accommodating." He pulled his hand away and rolled onto his back. "Good Lord woman!"

She laughed in the dark; she had found an easy target, his ego. "Quite the ruffled feathers this evening husband." She said coyly as she rolled to face him, in the dark her hand reached out to find his and she threaded their fingers together once again.

This discourse had become tiring. This endless talk of relations had managed to irritate first one of them and then the other. He was vain, and she was shy, not the best combination for such discussions. She knew he could be cold, and brazen, and taunting, but tonight he had surprised her with his kindness and sensitivity.

He had always made his desires for her known, and his past reputation with women had left her filled with trepidation regarding this aspect of their marriage. She hadn't known what to expect, but despite, his vanity…and his…ardor, he had always been gentle, and cautious not to push her or shame her. He was a good husband, a kind husband. Yes, beneath the sheets they had managed to reach quite a comfortable middle ground. She blushed deeply, and smiled to herself at her brazen thoughts.

"Rhett," she said softly as she pulled on his hand, a peace offering. "You know that month at Tara, when I was a child it was sooo long…"

He pulled her into his arms and smiled, "Was it my pet?"  
>"Yes," she pouted, "Terribly."<p>

He kissed her softly on the lips, "And where you bored my pet?" his voice sounded oddly deep and gruff.

"Yes," she said coyly, "I had no one to …play with."

He groaned deeply, and she laughed at the sheer power she had over him. "I can assure you Mrs. Butler," he said in between kisses, "that I can be quite the agreeable playmate."

"Are you sure?" she asked, enjoying the game once again, "I can be rather rambunctious."

He let out a moan, and rolled on top of her. "I am quite sure." He whispered into her mouth.

She looked in his face, his dark, hooded eyes, the look of almost delirious passion he got in moments like this and she knew, in an instant that she couldn't resist. "Oh-hum," she said in a sing song voice, "Seems as if I have more 'duties' to 'endure'!"

His deep laughter was the last thing she could remember clearly from that night.


	7. Chapter 7

_Okay, had another one all set 3,000 words and just couldn't get the end to work out...so I banged out this one instead. I would rank it as my 3rd favorite thus far, after Remorse and In the Family way. Thanks to all reviewers, you make the journey worth it. Ah and yes, aeryn7...the point about Ego, well taken...if I can figure out how to go in and substitute for...vanity or something along those lines...BTW, anonymous reviews have now been enabled on both my stories...so, no log in...just click away and make my day :)_

**Jealousy**

Scarlett O'Hara Butler stormed into their suite and slammed the door with enough force to take it off the hinges. Rhett Butler stood in the hallway and furrowed his brow, now here were three things, he thought, that when combined were stronger than the forces of nature; Scarlett, anger, and alcohol. Really, each quite manageable enough on its own, but when combined the results were quite dramatic.

"Now Scarlett," he started. As he opened the door and stepped through, "I know you're angry, but can you at least attempt to let some of the other guests at this hotel sleep through our fight?"

She turned around seething, "I don't care, if they all rise and come in here with us Rhett Butler, maybe they should come in and bear witness to my husband the vilest, most ill-mannered cad that ever walked the face of this earth."

"Scarlett, you're drunk…and you're shouting."

"You have not heard shouting yet!" she shouted, "But if you wish to, I can certainly do my best!"

He walked across the room in rapid strides and took her gently by the wrist, "That's enough darling, you've made your point, now keep it down."

"Don't you tell me what to do Rhett Butler, and don't you dare lay your hands upon me." She yanked her hand out from his grasp and stormed across the room, to sit by her dressing table.

"Good Lord woman, if I had ever suspected that you would become so taken by these….tantrums…when you became inebriated I would have thought better to control your alcohol intake !" He responded with a smirk, and the slow lazy Charlstonian drawl he used only to infuriate her.

"It isn't the alcohol that has caused this tantrum…. I mean my anger; it's your vile insistence on placing your hands all over that harlot's body! Oh you vile pig! To parade a woman like that in front of me and to paw her as if…."

Good Lord, he smiled was that what all this trouble was about? Had he managed to drive this little vixen mad with jealousy? No doubt it was his dance with Didi; he had felt Scarlett shooting daggers from clear across the ballroom, but deciding that he was not the type of man to be governed by his wife, especially not quite so publicly, he had proceeded, and without very much caution.

"Is that what this is?" he laughed loudly, "A little jealous fit?"

Scarlett's reflection glared at him from the mirror. "This has little to do with jealousy, and everything to do with common decency, which you severely lack!" she seethed as she proceeded to pull her earrings off and slam them onto her dressing table in anger.

"Careful with those stones" he smirked, "They aren't just pretty baubles made of glass you know, they're quite…"

He hadn't the chance to finish as both stones came flying across the air dangerously close to his head.

"The hell with you and your stones!" she spat.

He chuckled and reached into his breast pocket for his cigar case, "I don't think you would have been quite so eager to throw those, had you known their cost my pet," he said as he clipped the end and placed it in his mouth, "And don't think I'll be replacing them either, if they've been damaged."

"Oh, I don't want anything from you, not ever, not ever again!" she said as she continued pulling off her jewels and slamming them onto the dressing table.

He lit his cigar and laughed, "Quite easy to say I suppose, while you are enjoying the honeymoon suite at the finest hotel on the bayou, perhaps, you'd think differently if I were to strip you of that fine silk ball gown and send you back to a diet of turnips and hominy out at Tara."

She spun around on the small bench and fixed her eyes on his, "If you think that I will stand for your insults Rhett Butler, than you are severely mistaken," she said under her breath, "if it pleases you, I will gladly return to my home without all of this….finery, because I will certainly not spend another moment with a scoundrel who would hang such threats above my head."

He had gone too far and he knew it, the minute those words had left his lips he had regretted them. But damn that woman if she didn't drive him to be cruel. Throwing insults and emeralds around as if it were nothing. He was Rhett Butler, damn it, a man of the world, not some silly country beau who would shudder at the first sign of a temper. He would stand his ground. But those words, they had been particularly hateful, and with her not being the type to stand down, this had all the makings of a severely turbulent storm.

He nodded his head once and slipped a hand into his pocket. "Very well, and when will you be departing then ?"

She looked at him and drew a deep breath. "One would hope, that you would extend me the courtesy of allowing me to spend the remainder of the evening in this suit, as clearly I will not be able to travel until the morrow." She answered curtly, with her green eyes drawn to two serpentine slits.

Fine, if she would play along so would he. "Very well," he answered sharply, "You may have the bed and I will take the divan, and when you awaken…on the morrow, I will have made all of your travel arrangements with the porter. Will it be Atlanta then or Jonesboro?"

That scoundrel she thought in a rage so strong it threatened to bring tears to her eyes. Did he really intend to send her on her way? She didn't doubt him for a moment, and though the humiliation of being sent home from her own honeymoon would be almost too great to bear, it would certainly be more bearable than the humiliation of having Rhett Butler dangle his wealth before her, as if it were a carrot and she a mule!

"I think I will prefer Atlanta, thank you, as I am not fond of turnips and hominy." She replied shortly.

He bowed at the waist, "very well then."

"Very well." She answered, "Now will you be so kind as to ring down and have someone come and help undress me?"

"Scarlett," he laughed, pulling out his pocket watch and stopping to glance at it, "It is nearly two in the morning, surely you don't think there is anyone awaiting your arrival so they may undress you."

She bit her lip, "Then wake someone."

"Don't be ridiculous," he huffed, approaching the table, "I can certainly help you."

"I don't want your hands on me." She spat out. "I despise you !"

"Stop it Scarlett," he said as he approached her reaching out towards the back of her dress, "These childish tantrums don't suit you any longer, can't you at least make an attempt to grow up and …er… restrain yourself!"

"Much as you should have done this evening." She replied through clenched teeth.

"What, pray tell, have I done that has enraged you so," he asked as his nimble fingers began to make quick work of the many tiny hooks that ran down the back of her gown. Good Lord, this woman was driving him to madness, and they hadn't even been wed two weeks !

"You know damn well what you've done…Captain Butler." She said angrily.

"Ah, so its Captain Butler now? Very well then Mrs. Butler, since I don't have the faintest idea what has caused you such distress on this lovely evening of our honeymoon, perhaps you would like to enlighten me." He said sarcastically as his fingers reached the last hook.

"Don't play the innocent with me, why you had your hands all over that…that…woman as you danced." She huffed, as she stood and allowed herself to step out of the gown. "My corset, please" she mumbled.

"Didi?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, "you must be referring to her; a lovely Creole woman was it? Scarlett she's an old friend."

"An old friend my foot," she looked in the mirror and fixed her eyes on his. She took a breath and drew in some courage from the alcohol that still ran through her veins. "I would wager, to say that she's quite a bit more than that."

His fingers pulled at the laces of her corset. "What do you mean by that, darling?" he asked casually.

Her hands went up to her breast holding the garment in place as he loosened it. She had caught him. She knew it immediately, his answer was too casual, too studied, his fingers lacked their usual nimble grace. The bastard, had he really dared to dance with a woman he had bedded in front of her?

"You know exactly what I mean" she snapped as she rose and stepped into the dressing room, so that she could be afforded some privacy while she slipped into her nightclothes.

Rhett Butler stomped out his cigar and shrugged out of his jacket throwing it carelessly over a chair. He had indeed been with Didi, many years ago. They had shared a long and sensuous affair. He had been a much younger man, and she a passionate young Creole. They had been together; perhaps six months before fate had driven them apart.

Yes, he had seen her from time to time when in New Orleans. She travelled, on occasion, in the same circles as a few of his business associates. And even though she had made it quite clear on those encounters that she would be more than happy to 're-acquaint' herself with him, he had always politely declined. Some paths, he thought best, should only be visited once.

And tonight, there had seemed no exception to his usual, impeccable behavior. He had been surprised to see her; of course, it was after all his honeymoon, yet, he was certain his face had not conveyed any such sentiment. He had kissed her hand, indeed as he had kissed many others. And he had only agreed to a dance because she had asked him.

Yet there had been a moment, a very brief moment, and he had doubted that Scarlett had seen it, perhaps he had been wrong.

"_Oh please Rhett am I really to believe that little slip of a thing has managed to slide a noose around your neck?" she asked with a light coquettish lilt in her voice._

"_That little slip of thing, as you so call her has done no such thing," he answered with a smile, "It was I, who managed to slide a ring around her finger."_

_She laughed heartily, and threw her head back for a moment. He wondered if perhaps, accepting this dance had been, after all, a mistake. "Do you truly believe," she asked raising her wide light brown eyes flirtatiously, and pulling her hand out of his in order to run it down his lapel, "That you will be able to resist temptation?"_

_He quickly retrieved her hand and squeezed it firmly. "I do believe," he answered with a cold smile, "that this dance will be over quite unexpectedly if you find you are unable to resist yours."_

_She laughed loudly, drawing Scarlett's glare from across the room. _

He unknotted his cravat, and tossed it on the chair. What was he to do; surely she did not think he had been celibate prior to their union.

"Scarlett," he called out, as he sat on the edge of the chair and began pulling off his boots. "If there is something you'd like to say, then I suggest you say it." He would not spend the night like this, avoiding some invented slight.

It was silent for a moment, and he thought that perhaps her modesty in such manners, had bought him a reprieve. That is until he found her standing in the doorway of the dressing room, her green eyes fixed on his.

"I believe that you have …." She closed her eyes, and paused, letting her anger and the alcohol, give her the courage she needed to take forth this most vile accusation. "I believe that you have bedded that woman. There…are you pleased with yourself now?"

His brow rose momentarily, as he let his boot drop to the floor. "Scarlett," he started, "surely you do not think that I was celibate for twenty some odd years prior to having made your acquaintance."

She gasped and her hand went to her throat. It felt constricted, suddenly tight. For the first time in her life she understood all those silly girls who suffered fainting spells. This news, which she had suspected, but suddenly seemed so raw coming from his lips combined with all the alcohol she had consumed suddenly went to her head. She closed her yes. "So you have been with her?" she whispered.

Good Lord was she going to faint, he thought…or worse yet, become violently ill. Oh, what a fool he'd been, Scarlett was as cunning as a fox, of course she would have watched his every dance with every woman keenly. If he ever saw Didi again he would be sorely tempted to wrap his hands about her throat.

He stood and brought a glass of water to her at the dressing table. "Scarlett, it was a very long time ago."

"Not long enough apparently," she seethed, tears coming to her eye, "as neither of you could manage to keep your hands off one another. Oh you….vile, vile man."

"You know that isn't so," he started, "It was just a dance, I did nothing out of the ordinary Scarlett. Now, I know you are upset, but surely, considering that I am almost twenty years your senior, can you really not allow that perhaps at some point in my life I actually may have had... relations… with a woman that was not bought ?"

"I cannot allow that you would bring one of those women on your honeymoon!" she sobbed, slamming her hair brush down with such force she snapped the handle off.

"I did not bring her!" he shouted back, "surely you don't believe that."

"I don't know what to believe!" she shook her head violently; "you had her in your arms!"

"We were dancing!" he answered vehemently, "It's not as if I had her in a lustful embrace!"

She opened her tear stained eyes and glared at him across the mirror, "And when she stroked your chest, was that merely part of the dance?"

Ah, so she had seen. "She was mistaken in doing so, and I informed her of her misdoing. Scarlett, what more could I have done?"

He was exasperated. Caught in between two sentiments, by all means Scarlett was correct in feeling as she did. If she had dared to have a man, a former lover no less, stroking her arm during the course of a dance, why he would have snapped his neck. And, though he had never struck a woman, brazen behavior such as that, might have indeed made him consider it.

On the other hand, He was the man dammit, and he would not be tied to her apron strings. He had done nothing. Granted perhaps he should not have accepted the dance, but damn her he had behaved appropriately; He had thwarted the advance and made it quite clear that it had not been appreciated.

"You could have stopped dancing with her!" she shouted as she began roughly plucking the pins from her hair.

He stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders "I did not want to embarrass her by simply leaving her in the middle of the dance floor. Perhaps I should have reconsidered."

"Perhaps you should have!" she cried, "Because your actions embarrassed _me_ instead!"

"Good Lord," he groaned, "is that what this is all about? Your being embarrassed?"

She snatched the last of the remaining pins from her hair and threw them onto the floor, "It is about you hurting me!" she shouted, "Are you too dense to see that?"

There, she had said it. She didn't care! It was the truth, to hell with hiding it from him, this boorish, brutish man. It had hurt her, of course, to see him waltzing another, across the dance floor as she stroked his lapel. He had humiliated her in a crowded ballroom, the fancy Captain Butler, who can have his pretty young bride and a mistress both in the same room.

All those murmurings and vows that he had made to her while she lay in his arms at night. All so swiftly forgotten, not more than two weeks in, of course it had hurt her! Now, for all she cared he could keep his fancy dresses and stupid baubles, and go straight to hell, for as far as she was concerned, she could not be bought! Oh she had been such a fool to believe his sincerity!

He took a deep breath and raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps I am dense," he murmured, "Scarlett, I had no intention of hurting you…"

"How do you think, I felt, watching you from across the room, with this woman in your arms."

"I can see now," he said gently, "that you felt quite angry. I should have never accepted her invitation for a dance."

"No you shouldn't have! I felt so humiliated, as if I could not keep my own husband from …er…straying…not even on our honeymoon!" she cried out.

Ah, so down to the core of Eve's apple we go. Already, so soon, she had suspected his straying. Could he blame her really, he had a reputation that quite readily, preceded him.

"You know I would never do that." He said softly, as he reached and took the head of the brush in his hand. "You know I took our vows quite seriously my pet."

"I do _not_ know." She said, closing her eyes and allowing him, to start with long careful strokes to untangle her locks.

"I have told you a hundred times Scarlett, must it be a hundred and one." He asked.

"Yes. It must be a million times if I so want it." She answered crisply. "Especially if you intend on behaving this way."

He paused for a moment. Who would have thought that he could so easily hurt this fiery young beauty? And who would have thought that in causing her pain, he would feel such sharp pangs himself. Ah how easily anger did shift to pain. He had hurt her, made her doubt him, so early in the game. He had never intended to do so. With one stupid dance, he stood to compromise her trust.

"Scarlett," he continued thoughtfully, "I do not intend on behaving this way ever again. I had a severe lapse in judgment when I allowed that…acquaintance…to lead me into a dance. I should have thought better on how my actions would affect you. I have hurt you my pet," he said softly, turning her to face him and cupping her chin, "and for that I am truly sorry."

She pressed her lips together, and a small thin, almost imperceptible hint of a smile began to form. "Rhett," she started, "You can cancel, the porter and my trip to Atlanta, tomorrow if you please."

He laughed softly and turned her face up towards his. "Did you really think I would allow you to go tomorrow?" He asked.

"Did you really think I would seek your consent?" she replied boldly.

"You are my wife," he answered, "I would certainly hope that you would not think to desert me during the course of our honeymoon."

"And I would certainly hope, that as a newly wedded husband you would think better on how to treat your wife , if you intend on keeping her, that is." she said with her chin set squarely and her eyes glowing.

He bowed slightly and leaned forward pressing his lips to hers. "I believe I have learned my first lesson as a married man my pet."

Scarlett O'Hara smiled, as she reached up and let her arms wrap around her husband. Shyly, hesitantly she let her fingers play with the soft, short hairs at the base of his neck. On this evening she had understood two things clearly; first, the violent, stabbing pains of jealousy that could make someone go mad with rage, and second, the intense, giddy, almost headless pleasure of "making up."


	8. Chapter 8

_Ok, Ok, sorry...accidentally posted my Beta rough draft. Here we go. This is the real thing. The one from last week. Got the ending just right. For those of you out there who care to answer...should I bring "what if's" in here, or keep these moments more possible ? And as always thank you to those of you who are reviewing...those kind words keep me going...and those of you who aren't...come on, give it a go, make my day !_

**The morning after**

It was the morning after their wedding night. Scarlett wasn't sure what time it was, but she knew it was early, because the soft light filtering through the curtains had a pinkish hew.

She had been awakened by Rhett's movement behind her; apparently they had fallen asleep still wrapped in one another's arms, for she woke, still in his hold, completely nude. She had felt his arms tighten around her and pull her close; his face drew near and pressed into her hair before kissing it softly. Then just as quickly as this tender show off affection had started, it had ended, and she felt the mattress shift as Rhett's heavy form left the bed.

Thankfully she had been on her side, facing away from him, so that she could continue to feign sleep. She wouldn't have known what to do had he known she was awake, for she felt certain that she would rather die than face him this morning.

Scarlett lay still focusing on keeping her breaths even and deep, while she listened to the sounds of his dressing, only relaxing, when she heard the distinct sound of boots on the wooden floor, followed by the door softly being shut.

She waited, perfectly still for a moment, before exhaling and shooting up. "Dear God!" she mumbled to herself, as she quickly scanned the room for her nightgown and wrap, which had been laid out on the divan, but had never made their way to her body.

She quickly dressed in both and ran to the mirror, where she gasped at her reflection. Her hair was mussed in a way she hadn't seen since she was a child, and her cheeks and eyes held a very suspicious glow. Quickly, afraid that he may walk in at any second, Scarlett ran a brush through her tousled locks, and headed back into the bed.

She lay very still upon her pillows as her mind went in frantic circles. She was beyond embarrassed, mortified actually. How could she face him today, she thought to herself, how could she face him ever again. Oh, the things they had done!

Oh she knew how he would act, that varmint, he would come in, boasting and goading, teasing and taunting her until she simply died of shame!

Good Lord, how could she have done those things! How could he! She covered her face in shame, as she recalled, the places he had touched, her most private and intimate places. And his hands had been on them all night, making her feel….making her feel things she had never felt before. And her body had reacted in ways she had never known. Lustful, sinful ways!

Oh how could she face him!

Outside the door Rhett Butler, leaned with his broad back against the wall. His eyes closed and his dark handsome face turned towards the door. A smile crept on his face as he heard her hurried footsteps padding across the room. He had known she was feigning sleep from the moment he felt her body stiffen in his arms.

He had hoped this wouldn't happen, but knowing Scarlett as he did, he gathered it was a distinct possibility.

He rubbed a hand over his features, Scarlett had tried so hard last night to remain, cool, passive, and unaffected by his ministrations. But he had been able to tell, as clear as day, that she had never felt anything like she had last night. Why neither one of those great big hams she had married prior to him had given her a moment of pleasure. And under his skilled hands, she had come unraveled and fast.

Now she had only to deal with the morning after, knowing she would feel uncomfortable, he thought it best for him to make an early retreat giving her some time to compose herself. Perhaps he'd get a shave, and a coffee, enjoy the morning paper with beignet, before bringing up a tray for his new bride.

He only hoped, as he pushed himself up and started heading towards the lobby, and the gorgeous New Orleans morning, that she wouldn't torture herself with feelings of guilt and shame until he returned.

Scarlett, had laid in bed the remainder of the morning, her mind in a torment, wondering just how she would be able to face him this morning, and in fact this evening, for she felt quite certain, that the events of last night were sure to be repeated.

She had indeed suspected that his bedroom behavior would be quite different from that of her previous husbands, but she had never expected a night like last night. For, though she had expected great ardor and passion from him, she had never expected it from herself! And though she had been certain of his pleasure and enjoyment in the act, she had never suspected her own!

And last night had been so different, so incredibly different. In her past marriages, their unions had been hurried, fumbling acts done only out of duty. She had felt used and humiliated, her nightgown hitched up, in the pitch black room, as they had groaned above her.

With Rhett, why, it had been a different act altogether. She had never felt such a complete sense of reverence from a man. He had been slow, and gentle. He had been so attentive and considerate, so loving and affectionate. Of all the way she had ever imagined Rhett to be, she had never imagined this.

Just as she laid back and closed her eyes, recalling a particular detail, of him above her in the darkened room gazing into her eyes as he gently stroked her cheek, she heard the doorknob turn and her shameful reverie was interrupted by Rhett, as he entered the room, with a breakfast tray in his hand.

"Good morning darling!" he beamed, as he turned to shut the door behind him. He looked, fresh and handsome, and smelled of aftershave and pomade. His top button was undone, and though he wore a jacket, he had on no vest or cravat.

Scarlett, felt a wave of heat rise up to her cheeks as she pulled the sheet up to her chest, and looked down. Chagrined that despite her clear mortification of last night's events she could not keep herself from thinking upon them.

"Oh, Good morning." She mumbled, glancing his way quickly, before flicking her eyes downward again.

He walked over and placed the tray on the small table by the bed and then sat beside her. His head cocked lightly to the side as he searched her face, "Should I say darling or wife, I wonder?" He asked with a small smile as he took her hand in his and pressed it to his lips. "I do believe I like the sound of the latter best."

She looked down, timidly refusing to meet his eyes, and pulling her hand out of his.

Ah, so it starts, he thought. "Did you sleep well wife?" He asked. "You look more beautiful than usual; perhaps it was your restful night?" he asked with a wry grin.

She nodded, her eyes fixed on an undeterminable point across the room.

"Would you like some breakfast?" He continued, smiling sweetly, "I brought you the most delicious coffee and beignets still hot from the bakery."

"No thank you." She answered quickly, just wanting him to leave her bedside.

He paused, for a moment and rested his hands on his lap. "I've never known you to skip a meal my dear." He laughed. "Are you not feeling well?"

Silently she shook her head no.

"Have I done something then?" He asked, reaching to take her hand once again and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You seem quite….er…put off."

"It's nothing," she started hesitatingly, "it's just that…well, I suppose I'm just not used to having a man in my quarters. Especially you!"

Rhett looked down at her and a queer smile tugged at the side of his lip, his deep black eyes fixed on hers , "I am your husband now my pet, I suppose you'll have to get accustomed." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her brow. "I can be quite helpful you know, I can feed you, or dress you…or undress you…"

"Rhett stop." She said quietly as her face turned to flames. "Don't!"

"Scarlett please," he said gently, "I was only playing. Please don't do this, don't feel so…embarrassed by my presence."

"I don't! Good Lord Rhett, I'm just not used to having a man about when I awaken! "

He looked up at her and smiled, "Come now my pet, I can tell when you're not comfortable, though I wish it wasn't so."

"Well," she said exasperated by his ability to read her, "it is so, it is …so just please, please just leave me be!"

"Leave you be?" He asked startled, "I haven't been in this room but five minutes, surely you don't intend for me to leave?"

"I wish you would," she answered curtly, "I do! I feel… well you know how I feel and I'd much rather you leave than sit here and…and make it worse for me!" she cried out

"Make it worse," he laughed gently, "Now how would I do that?"

"Oh, your usual way, laughing and teasing and…oh you know how you are, you'll just gloat till I die won't you? But I shant stand it this morning Rhett, I shant!" She cried out

"Darling," he whispered, as he reached out and cupped her cheek. "I won't tease you. Not about this. I wouldn't want you behaving like this every morning of our honeymoon now would I?"

Her green eyes flashed up in alarm, "Every morning!" she gasped.

His face fought hard to keep from breaking into a grin, but one corner slid up errantly despite his most earnest efforts. "I would hope by the time we returned to Atlanta you would have become accustomed to facing me in the morning."

"You cad," she started, her green eyes narrowing, "You horrible vile man…you're already teasing me aren't you? "She trembled, "aren't you?"

He looked at her and smiled softly, his beautiful young bride, who was a hell cat in every single solitary way, other than this. She had been so nervous last night that despite his gentle coaxing, and his careful plying, he knew she would never be able to assume a level of comfort beneath the sheets. But discomfort and mortification were quite different, and while he could accept one, he would not tolerate the other.

"Listen to me darling, I won't say this but once, for I know you don't want to hear it, what happened between us last night was the most natural act on earth. There is no shame in a husband and wife enjoying intimacies as we did."

Scarlett turned a furious shade of red. Redder than he had ever in fact, thought a human being was capable of turning. Her hands flew up and covered her face. "Stop!" she whispered, mortified. "Please."

"Come now Scarlett," he said gently, realizing in an instant just how deeply her shame ran, "This is our first morning as husband and wife. Look at me," he paused for a moment before gently reaching out and pulling her hand away from her face. "Look at me sweetheart," Her green eyes met his before closing briefly. "We were intimate with one another last night, as we will be most nights," he paused as her green eyes flew open in shock, "In one way or another. And I do not wish for you to feel as you do now. Not ever. I want you to be as comfortable with me, as I am with you."

"But I won't be," she said, her words spilling out, one after the other. How could this man, how could he think, that she could be comfortable with him, after having behaved in such a wanton way. "I won't ever be…last night… it wasn't right, or moral, or…."

He smiled softly at her, and kept her hand pressed between his. "What wasn't right? Tell me honey, what was so wrong, or immoral about our union?"

"Oh good Lord!" Her cheeks turned red once again. "What happened between us…I…don't think, it's meant to be …" she stuttered quickly, "so, so….." she shook her head unable to finish.

"So passionate?" he asked softly. "Do you mean to tell me, that all of the impassioned embraces we shared during our courtship didn't clue you in as to how our first night together might be?"

She shook her head vehemently, her face growing crimson once again. "Why no, I…I never thought."

"Scarlett," he said gently, leaning forward so that he may catch her eyes, "you and I are like flint and steel, just how did you imagine our first union would be if not fiery?"

She was mortified that he would describe it as such. Even though, truth be told, and it almost killed her to admit it, it had been so. His kisses had been smoldering, his touch had left a burning trail across her body, and he had driven her mad with a sweltering desire.

She blushed deeply and looked away. "I never imagined. It's not proper." She whispered.

"Well," he laughed, "I did, and I can assure you my pet," he said lowering his voice and leaning forward once again, "that you exceeded all of my expectations."

"Please Rhett," she stammered, struggling to continue. "You shouldn't, say those things or think those things…..I feel, I feel like I can't ever face you after last night, like I could just roll over and die!"

"Darling," he chuckled softly, "you can face me, you can always face me no matter what, especially after our first night of making love."

She looked into her lap, staring at her hand nestled between his. Fixated on the way the thick golden band looked around his finger. Her insides struggling between disconcertment and curiosity, the latter winning over. "Last night….would you call it that?" she asked suddenly, her tremulous voice breaking the silence.

"Call it what, my pet?" he asked gently.

She watched as his fingers softly massaged the inside of her palm. She could not bring herself to utter those words, not ever. "You know," she said her voice barely above a whisper, "what you just called it."

"Making love?" he asked raising his brow in question. "Yes I most certainly would."

She continued looking down, and he could see her one delicate eyebrow arch up slightly. Her fingers touched the gold band around his finger and she turned it once. "Even though we said we did not love one another?"

The side of his face rose up in a lazy smile. "We do care about each other do we not?" he asked shrugging. "And are we not….fond…of one another?"

"That is still not love." She answered simply, refusing to acknowledge his constant need to taunt her with that word.

He fixed his eyes on her and cocked his head. What did she want, his beautiful bride? What did she need to make her see that what they shared between them was nothing less than beautiful; the natural act of a man and woman who have yearned for one another finally becoming one. Would an admission of love make her accept their union as more than just an act of lust? Should he allow a chink in his finely composed armor, and let her see that she meant more to him, than a thousand nights with a thousand women could ever possibly mean. He closed his eyes, for a moment, then opened them and let them rest once again on hers.

"Do you remember when I left you at Rough and Ready?" he asked.

"Yes!" she pulled at his fingers and looked up, her green eyes narrowed, all embarrassment forgotten for the moment and replaced by anger. "If I live a million years Rhett Butler, I will never forget being abandoned by you at Rough and Ready."

He laughed, "Do you per chance remember what I said to you that day."

"You said so many things….what I remember most is you telling me you were leaving."

He laughed again and squeezed her hand. "Not that. Think harder now my pet. Think."

Her eyes shot up in surprise "Your proposition, your vile proposition to bed me…outside of wedlock!"

"No, no, now don't get yourself in a huff. That would be moot point anyway now. Close your eyes Scarlett and think on it."

She closed her eyes, and he sat across from her, watching her beautiful face as it struggled to recall. Her long tumbled locks, her thick dark lashes fanned across her cheek, her plump ripe lips, her hard square chin. And then suddenly, suddenly he saw it, a flurry of a memory that sprang across her face and cause her features to light up. Her eyebrows arched in surprise and she opened up her bright green eyes. "You…you told me you loved me! You told me that you loved me and you wanted me!"

"Very good my pet." He smiled and took her hand in his, holding it up so she could better see her wedding band. "And now I have you."

"But," she started; startled that she had overlooked his frank admission of so many years ago, "If you do love me then why won't you…"

"Hush" he said. "Someday, someday perhaps you'll offer the same sentiment to me, and then I will never tire of telling you. But for now my pet, you need only to remember. And," he leaned forward pressing his lips to hers, "allow me to show you from time to time."

_-Remember anonymous reviews now enabled...click-click-click !_


	9. Chapter 9

_Ok everyone here is a bit of pure fluff. I'm sure Scarlett often wondered about this...I know I have ! For those of you who are faithfull, may thanks, for those of you who are just signing on...I love reviews ! Also, all and any ideas welcome about different "moments" though I do have some in the works...always interested in what others would like to see._

**Mistresses**

She had woken up sobbing. The dream had returned. The horrible nightmare that plagued her nights. And despite her embarrassment of having been found sobbing and screaming in her bed by Rhett, she quickly found comfort in his arms. This she learned, quite early on, was something that pleased Rhett immensely. There seemed few things in life that pleased him more than the ability to provide comfort, in any way to his wife.

On this particular evening, he had scooped her up and carried her to the divan, where he sat, facing the moonlit window with her in his arms.

"There, there darling," he had whispered tenderly in her hair, "I'm here now, I've got you now."

She had wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her tear stained face against his chest, and sat motionless while he spoke his words of comfort and rubbed slow circles along her back.

"Rhett," she asked softly, once her tears had subsided, "does this ever tire you?"

"This what?" he asked gently.

She lifted her head off his chest and looked at him. "This, all this…crying and…fussing…that happens to me from time to time."

"Good Lord no," he answered, "It's not as if you can it help darling, how can you even ask such a thing?"

"I just wondered." She replied sleepily.

"Well don't." he said kissing her on the head, "Don't wonder such things. I will never tire of having you in my arms."

"Well I know _that_," she laughed softly, "I meant, do you tire of having me in your arms this way. I feel so…so childish."

'I know what you meant," he said softly, "and the answer is still no, it will always be no."

Lord, he thought, he would never tire of soothing Scarlett, of providing this sort of comfort. Why when she woke up frightened and ran for his arms it was the only time he truly felt she yearned for him. Oh, surely he knew she cared for him, and he knew she was…fond of him, their marriage was happy. But she did not yearn for him as he did for her….other than on those nights. And that was something he would never tire of.

"Rhett," she started, "can I ask you something…"

"Of course, my pet " he smiled, certain that this would most assuredly be an unusual question, for when Scarlett was tired her mind became like a child's often skipping from one topic to the next with little regard for proprieties, or consequence. And it was, he smiled to himself, one of his favorite times to be with her. Especially on this night, with her soft form, snuggled deeply on his lap, and her warm breath across his chest, and her busy little mind, ready to start what was surely to become, an interesting inquisition.

"When you were young." She started, "I mean, _younger_…did you have, well I mean, I'm sure I wasn't your first woman, but surely you didn't just go to those….places, I mean…did you have a…?"

Here we go he thought, smiling to himself. "Do you mean a mistress?" He asked casually.

"Augh!" she said shaking her head against his chest. "Yes, did you have….one of those?"

He took a deep breath, "Now Scarlett, why would you want to know the answer to that when you cannot even bear to ask the question?"

"Because, I'm wondering," she stifled a yawn, "you are my husband now, and I have a right to wonder."

"Well, I already told you, stop wondering all the time, it will do you no good." He answered chuckling. He knew Scarlett, and if they started on this discourse he was certain they would travel round and round upon it until all hours. "Just rest." He mumbled, kissing her hair softly.

"So you won't tell me?" she asked

How like her he thought. How like a child to circumvent all reason, and go back time and again to a fixed point. "You don't really want to know the answer." He said shortly.

"Oh I do," she answered quickly, "Otherwise I wouldn't have asked."

"Oh Scarlett," he sighed, reaching out and threading his fingers between hers, "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." She answered quickly, "I promise I won't become hurt…or angry."

Why did she do this to him, she asked him these questions, so many probing questions and more often than not the answers would anger her and bring up an argument. If he chose to sidestep the questions she would become irate, citing his famous last words "we'll have no secrets from one another", and prod him and push him until he would become so angry he would spit his response at her, without any of the niceness or sugar coating it usually required and she would storm out in a fit of tears.

When it came to her curiosity, Scarlett was insatiable. And no amount of convincing could force her to shift her attentions elsewhere. So, on this evening, hoping that her nightmare and his soothing comforting words would have indeed plied her temperament, he chose to face the beast head on.

"Yes," he answered, "I have had a mistress."

"Only one?" she answered raising an eyebrow, if Rhett had indeed been bedding women for as long as she suspected, surely there had been more than one.

"No, not only one. Dear God Scarlett, why does this interest you so?"

"It does," she smiled, "It just does, accept it as some sort of….I don't know, a morbid curiosity of sorts." She stifled a yawn, "How many?"

"Not many," he answered quickly, "Scarlett stop this. It's senseless!"

"It's not senseless," she replied, "it's interesting…give me a number."

"No."

"Please…"she implored.

"Come now," he began to unwrap her arms from his neck, "This conversation is over my pet, I think it's best if we…"

"Was it ten?" she asked quickly, snaking her arms about his neck again.

"No!" he roared, "Do you really think I had time for so many? Dear God Scarlett, I had plenty of other things to do besides bedding women you know !"

"Then how many?" she persisted.

Knowing full well that he had no chance of avoiding this topic, no chance of unhinging her from his neck, and leaving this room lest he face a demon upon his return. He took a deep breath, thinking to himself that perhaps he should have indeed let her continue uninterrupted with her nightmare on this evening, because unfortunately now, her nightmare was becoming his.

He took a deep breath and sighed, "I don't know…perhaps…four, maybe five?"

"Will you tell me about them." She asked softly

"Certainly not!" he guffawed. "Really Scarlett, this is beyond…even for you!"

She laughed, "I can't believe that my asking about your mistresses seems more unacceptable to you than the fact that you had mistresses to begin with."

He chuckled lightly and squeezed her fingers within his own. "It is Scarlett, good Lord try to be a lady for once."

"Only when it suits you, "she teased, "Should I be a lady."

"Scarlett," he started, "It isn't right….and besides no good will come of this, can't we remain like this, in one another's arms and enjoy some peace?"

She seemed not to even listen, but sat up straight and raised an eyebrow up in a perfect arch above a sleepy eye. "Was one of them that horrid woman we met in New Orleans who couldn't keep her hands off you?"

"You see," he chuckled softly, "this is my point exactly, we haven't even started and you are already angry. Believe me, my pet…this is a road best not travelled."

"I'm not angry," she replied smartly, "merely making an inquiry. And besides, this road has been travelled, well-travelled by you! So…she was wasn't she?"

"Yes, I'm supposing it's Didi, that you speak of…yes, she was indeed, someone I was…shall we say…involved…with…"

"Will you tell me about her?"

"No," he answered firmly. "Besides, there is nothing more to tell then you've already heard. Dear God have you forgotten that you forced me to go over every single detail of my rapport with her on that famous evening; because if you have, we could very well wire the hotel for some of the details!"

"Oh stop it!" she laughed lightly, "I wasn't so bad, considering."

He tightened his hold about her and pressed his lips against her hair. "No, you weren't," he whispered softly before placing a quick chaste kiss there, "But, I don't think the hotel owner will be eager to hear from us again after that particular night." He continued leaning back against the chair.

"Oh fie," she huffed, "That was only one of many…if I recall correctly…we were quite noisy weren't we?"

He laughed heartily, and pulled her tighter towards him, recalling the many heated squalls that had occurred during their two week honeymoon. He had been surprised in fact to have not heard from the owners, especially after one particularly loud night of drunkenness and debauchery that seemed to go on until the early morning hours.

"Yes," he chuckled, "I suspect that we were probably the most unusual newly wedded couple they have ever housed in that suite."

"So, there was …that horrid woman…tell me of another…"

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, annoyed that this little jaunt down the memory of their honeymoon did not manage to disentangle this ridiculous discourse from her little brain. Who was there to tell, who would cause the least harm to her.

There had been Susannah, out in California, during the gold rush days. The story was mild enough, but perhaps his refusal to marry her would disturb Scarlett. They had been young, and oh, she had been so lovely and sweet and full of promise…until she met him that is. He had known, that it wasn't right, known it from the start really, but she had been too beautiful, too sweetly innocent and far too willing to resist. No, he had pretty much ruined her. This tale was not for Scarlett.

Then a few years down the road there had been Didi, it was best to steer clear of any further mentioning's of her lest Scarlett unsheathe her claws again.

Then Elizabeth, he mused. She had been lovely…quite lovely, A widow actually, from Charleston. Ahhh, he had spent a good long time in her arms. Yes this story was quite sedate. Well, except for the fact that this affair had gone on for so long, far too long. Why Elizabeth had managed to weave herself in and out of every period of his life. And he had to admit, had he felt even the smallest shred of love for her, they would have been wed, for she was indeed the most amiable and lovely of all creatures. No, Eleanor would drive her mad.

He shook his head lightly; there had even been a Yankee. Indeed, he had been involved with a wonderful Bostonian named Kate. Her father was a shipping magnate, an importer of steel, who made his fortune in guns and rails. Kate loved horses, and sailing and much to her father's chagrin Southern gentlemen. Kate had the finest of tastes, and despite her taste for him, the war rendered furthering their relationship impossible.

And then there was the unmentionable…Belle Watling. No he thought best, to never mention her name. Never mention the long string of nights he had spent in her arms. Oh Belle, she still remained one of his dearest friends. They had a long history between them. And if it weren't for Scarlett, they would be much closer; for despite her poor upbringing and her demise to whoredome, Belle Watling had a heart of pure gold. No, he would not bring Belle Watling into this.

"Rhett," she called out, giving his hand a gentle tug. "I know that you're thinking about them…one of them at least…why won't you tell me?"

"Oh Scarlett," he shrugged. "Why must you be like a child in your insistence? You know I am almost twenty years your senior, can't you be satisfied in knowing that yes, there have been women, and no, none of them have managed to capture my heart other than you."

"I highly doubt that Captain Butler." She said coyly.

"Well I certainly didn't wed any of them did I?" He answered smartly. "Come now my dear, it is so pleasant, so sweet to sit here with you in my arms." He leaned forward and kissed her chastely once again. "You know how I relish these moments of peace between us my pet, rare as they are, can you not let me enjoy this one?"

"I suppose I can," she answered sweetly, far too sweetly for his liking. "It is quite nice to be wrapped up in your arms like this. I don't suppose I've ever told you Rhett, just how much I enjoy these moments as well."

He softened slightly, and ran his hand lovingly up the length of her arm. "Somehow darling, this sudden sweetness of yours does make me a tad suspicious."

"Oh you are a cad!" she said with a light laugh, "first you ask me to relax in your arms, and enjoy the moment and when I comply, you are quick to suspect the worst!"

"Years of training my pet." He said softly.

"Well fiddle dee-dee Captain Butler; I simply wanted to remain snug in your arms while you regale me with one of your tales."

"Ah, so you want a story do you my pet?" He asked with a smirk, and a raised brow. "What kind of story?"

"Oh, I don't know…." She said slyly, "how about something different, something new…something sordid."

"Scarlett, you little vixen," he laughed, "did you really think I would fall for that trap, really darling it was so basic, even at this late hour, I expected more…I dare say perhaps your skills are slipping a bit."

"They are not!" she countered, "And I wasn't laying a trap, I was merely hoping that my husband would regale me with a tale without me having to resort to traps or begging or pleading or…."

"Alight darling, you win…" he folded, "but the tale will not be sordid, not in the least bit, and you will have nothing more than the most basic of details."

He leaned his head back and took a deep breath, "Let's see, the last woman I was with, prior to having made the acquaintance of the woman who would change my evil ways forever, was a woman in Cuba. Her name was Anita; we were together, oh perhaps a year or two, only when I was there for business. She was unwed, quite lovely and the affair ended abruptly, there."

She smiled softly and drew his hand towards her chin tucking it underneath, "I gather that this is the first time I have managed to make my husband uncomfortable. Rhett Butler, I do believe that is the worst story I ever heard. Why you've spared every detail…perhaps _you_ are slipping."

He scoffed and shook his head.

"How did you know her?" she asked

"Her father was a business associate of mine. I'd known her for years."

She raised an eyebrow in surprise, "Did he not mind that you…."

Rhett shrugged slightly, "I suppose he did at first, things aren't quite the same as they are here, not quite as….shall we say…rigid….but I do suspect that he was hoping for …more."

"How much more?" She asked quickly.

"I suspect a betrothal…I was quite eligible you know." He added with a laugh.

"So you made a promise and then…."

"No, no, no," he said adamantly, "That's the point of a mistress darling; longevity with no promises… and no expectations."

She was silent for a moment. Now why on earth would a woman enter into that sort of arrangement? Was it money, or desperation? Surely if her father was in business with Rhett she couldn't have been that desperate. Could a woman possibly enjoy…

"Rhett…." She started, "if she knew you wouldn't marry her…why would she…"

"Good grief Scarlett," he said uncomfortably, "perhaps she…enjoyed herself…or maybe she thought I'd come around…or…I don't know darling, and honestly now, I think this is quite enough."

"How old was she?" She asked, ignoring him entirely. This was indeed more fun than she had ever suspected.

He shifted uncomfortably beneath her, "About your age, perhaps a tad younger."

"Younger! My word Captain Butler!" she exclaimed. "Was she beautiful?"

"Yes. Quite different from you. She was dark, exotic." He answered, recalling her smooth bronzed skin, and her full lush curves.

"Did you love her?" She fired.

"Good Lord no." he laughed.

"Why did you leave her?"

"On a business trip to Atlanta I was invited to a lovely barbeque at 12 Oaks." He said smugly.

"Stop it!" she answered. "Tell the truth."

"It is!"

"It isn't, you barely made my acquaintance that day, I couldn't have made that much of an impression." She replied smartly.

"Contrary to your belief Scarlett, you made quite an impression. When that vase flew through the air and almost struck my head…I dare say I was impressed!" He laughed.

"You are a cad! Will you never stop bringing that up?" she asked annoyed.

"Not until the day it stops amusing me….and I don't see that happening soon. Honestly Scarlett, you have quite a penchant for throwing things!" he laughed.

"Yes well, perhaps I do but…is that really why you ended things…because of …me?" She inquired softly, her interest now piqued to the extreme.

"Always on the lookout for a compliment aren't you my vain little vixen?' He said with a laugh. "Yes, I would say that after laying eyes on you…things out in Cuba seemed to lose their fire."

"So…you left her?"

"Not exactly," he shrugged, recalling that wagon ride back to Jonesboro that he had shared with Frank Kennedy, after that fateful barbeque. He had leaned his head back and smiled the whole way to the station, ignoring that man's incessant ramblings as he remembered that fiery tempered green eyed beauty, whose ill-fated love declaration he had intruded upon.

He had made a few trips back to Cuba, after that, and yes of course he had been with Anita, but that little vixen had kept coming back to him and as a rule, Rhett Butler never lay with a woman whilst thinking so intently of another.

"Well then when did you leave her?" her impatience, squelched his reverie, and he opened his eyes again.

"My but you are curious this evening aren't you pet?" he laughed, truthfully he didn't mind. He much preferred the turn this conversation had headed in. Scarlett, relished compliments in every way, and he knew well that the remainder of the evening could have quite a different outcome for him if he managed to play his cards right.

"Let's see," he said with a deep breath, "I would say that it was after our first dance…do you remember that dance my pet , at the banquet…it was after that dance that I made my final decision to let Anita go."

"You can't be serious," she said shyly, "I looked horrid, draped in all those yards of black crepe, and not allowed a single smudge of rouge or…"

"Or nothing," he said gruffly, cutting her off, "You were beautiful, and I had no idea that you would be there. I was so pleasantly surprised to see you my pet, I'd wager to say I would have bid three times as much to hold you in my arms that night."

"Can you imagine Rhett? As it was you caused such a stir…there wasn't a woman in that room that went for half as much as I did."

"When I went back to Cuba, later on that month," he offered slowly, "I had already made my decision, you were too much on my mind for me to enjoy Anita's company as I previously had, and since I had no desire to toy with her emotions…I simply ended it…quite abruptly I might say, and returned to Atlanta to begin the longest pursuit of a woman in the history of mankind."

She laughed happily and pulled his hand to her lips, pressing them against his folded knuckles, a show of affection she had never done before. His tale had made her feel so gay, so precious, so desired. "It wasn't that long," she teased.

"My word Scarlett, I pursued you through a war, a husband, the birth of a child, and two widowhoods…and still you made me wait damn near a year until I could get my hands on you !" he roared.

"Don't swear," she said primly, and he could hear the joy and satisfaction in her voice. "It was the proper waiting period, and you know it. And besides…." She added slyly "Was I not worth the wait?"

Swiftly he picked her up and carried her to the bed. This little vixen had worked her way into his heart like no one else had ever managed, and truth be told he would have waited a hundred years for her. He smiled lowering himself onto her small, supple form. His hand reaching out to cup her head as he looked deeply into those dancing merry green eyes. He could tell in an instant that she knew the hold she had on him, and he smiled again leaning in to whisper into her ear, "You were worth every second Mrs. Butler," before he pressed his lips to hers.

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	10. Chapter 10

_It's not always fluff ! This one's a little different. It's more of a "what if", and it's how I think things could have happened after Bonnie's death. Very sad, and as a mother, a very dark place to get to, in order to find my characters. I had it lingering around for a couple of weeks, untill I got it just right. There is a bit of a part 2, started, let me know if you're interested._

**Sadness**

She was afraid. Terrified. She had seen her father fall into lunacy. Looked into his eyes, and seen none of the man that once had been, it had been like looking into the eyes of a stranger. And now her husband, there was nothing left of him, nothing. There was, madness, an insanity that cloaked his face, and she could not bear to look into his eyes, the blackness had grown so deep and so empty, it was like gazing into a deep bottomless pool.

Oh how she longed for anything, anything from the past. How she longed to hear anger, remorse, even hatred, anything lest what she heard now, a silence so thick it threatened to drive her into despair.

The first two days had been a horror. Scarlett could scarcely recall any detail to them; only waves, sickening waves of anger and grief and pain that had washed over her until she had collapsed in a fit of tears and remorse it had shaken her to her very soul.

She recalled pieces, watching Rhett race across the lawn to gather Bonnie, the sickening image of her little arm bouncing up and down as he raced her towards the house. There had been Dr. Meade, a sad wearied face, a horrible diagnosis and then she had collapsed. Her life had caved in around her, her heart had ripped, and torn and shattered and her mind had blacked out.

Not Bonnie. Not Bonnie, please God not her. Anyone, anyone but her she had thought, her mind going frantic with panic. Please Lord, she had though, take Wade, take Ella, take me! She had heard Rhett screaming, a hoarse dry inhuman sob, and she had collapsed again.

Somehow there had been wires sent, Melanie had been called, the children had been sent out of the house. Somehow she had walked, eaten, relieved herself….breathed, somehow surely these basic functions had taken place but she could not recall how.

Only after, after the truth had set in did she recall her actions, How clearly, too clearly. She had run into Rhett's room and taken him by the shirt turning him around, never pausing, to see his own grief, his guilt and his remorse. Oh how she had attacked him, pounded on him with her two fists, as he stood still before her, tears running down his cheeks, unable to deflect a single blow.

'_Murderer!" she screamed, "Murderer give me my Bonnie, give me my Bonnie back!"_

"_You killed her, you killed her damn you, damn you, you bastard! You killed my baby girl! Why?" she sobbed, "Why did you let her jump so high, she was a baby, a baby! Damn you Rhett, Damn you! You killed my baby! You killed her! You killed her!"_

She had sobbed and screamed, hitting him over and over in the chest until she feared she would break her own arms against it. Only at the very end of her fury, when she had collapsed, her sobs, growing strangled and gasping, her arms still in fists batting slowly at his chest, had he spoken.

"_Have you no mercy?" He pleaded his voice broken and coarse._

"_No," she sobbed with one final blow to his chest, "And I have no child either!"_

Mammy had come in at this point. Dear sweet Mammy, the only one who could face Scarlett's rage without any fear. She had silently slipped her arms around her mistress and escorted her silently into her room. There awaiting her was a hot cup of tea, the hot liquid loaded with drops of laudanum lulled her into a dreamless sleep.

Down the hall, her husband had collapsed. His hands covering his handsome face, as waves of pain overtook him, and he had remained crumpelled until he had enough strength to make it to a bottle.

On the second day she had awakened slowly, hazily, the drugs still having a momentary hold on her senses. Then the grief and the memories had flooded back in and she had doubled over heaving and vomiting upon her bed, and gasping, gasping until there was nothing left inside of her. Then she had risen, dressed, and in much the same way in which she had faced the death of her beloved parents, and both of her husbands she stood and faced the death of her most precious child.

Somehow, she had stood straight, squared her shoulders, faced her day. Yes, somehow she had made it. Waves and waves of people had come. Where they friends, relatives, she did not know. Her body was immobilized on the outside, but inside it was a slow shatter, a tremor a collapse. She was dying. Surely she was dying . She wanted to scream, to stand and scream and shatter everything in sight. Instead she sat, eyes glazed over, somehow listening to incomprehensible words of condolences spoken from countless of faceless strangers. She grasped a hundred hands, and thanked a hundred people.

She had waited all morning for Rhett, her rage building steadily within her. He had taken Bonnie to the undertakers at daybreak, and she had not seen her since Dr. Meade's diagnosis, since her collapse. She had to see her. She couldn't continue, couldn't go on unless she held her baby in her arms.

And when Rhett had returned, he had done so with Bonnie in his arms. Treading heavily passed a sitting room of family and neighbors who had gasped in shock at the wretched sight, and headed up the stairs where he had locked himself and Bonnie inside his bedroom.

Oh how she had begged and pleaded entrance, pounding at the door, Her anger turning to grief as she was denied ingress . Sobbing in tears she had collapsed in a heap on the floor before the door. There had been no sound from within. The door had not budged.

In the early afternoon, the door had opened and shut again quickly. Rhett had put the key in his pocket and hurried down the stairs, passed his mother and sister and Scarlett and bolted out the door. They had heard only hooves pounding the pavement.

Scarlett had raced up the stairs frantically,yet The door had been locked. Her daughter lay behind it. Scarlett had curled up against the heavy, intricately detailed oak door and placed her brow against it. "Bonnie," she had whispered over and over again, until once again the drug laden tea had shown itself. The cup held against her lips by Melanie. The familiar heart shaped face that whispered condolences and led her to her room, and sat beside her bead, cradling her hand beneath her own.

Just before dusk, they had heard the sound of hooves again, the horse being ridden nearly to the front porch. The door had slammed open, and Rhett had sauntered in. He had been drinking, heavily. Between the grief and the alcohol, he was not himself. His mother and sister had risen to greet him, but with an outstretched hand he had stopped them and turned, stumbling towards the stairs.

At his door Scarlett had stopped him. He smelled of alcohol, and cigars, and unwashed man. She could smell his strong manly odor, and see his dirtied rumpled clothing as she raced across the hallway to approach him, and the sight of him in those conditions frightened her. She called out his name and he had turned to face her. He was gone. The man before her was not her husband. He wore only a vague resemblance to the man she had shared her home with, borne this child with. There was nothing in him, nothing left other than madness, madness and a bottomless pit of grief.

With a thick stiffeled sob, she swallowed her anger towards him. Swallowed the heaps and heaps of blame she felt towards him for having taken her child, for having killed her with his pointless permisvness. She swallowed the rage, for she saw within him a blame so deep, that it threatened to swallow him whole. She understood in that moment on the landing, that her husband was slipping away.

"_Rhett!" she called out, "Rhett stop please!"_

_He turned before the door and stared at her through lifeless eyes._

"_Rhett, the funeral! We need to talk about the funeral we need to make burial…"_

"_Burial !" he roared, cutting her off, "You heartless witch! Do you really think I'm going to put my Bonnie into the ground?"_

_She stopped and stared wide eyed. He had gone mad; just like father…his mind had gone. "Rhett, she's gone…Bonnie's gone…we have to…."_

"_I know she's gone." He said coldly, "She's gone and I killed her. But I won't bury her; I'll never put her in the ground! Do you know how frightened she would be?" He asked reaching out and grabbing hold of her upper arm tightly, between viselike fingers. "Do you? No, I suppose you don't. You know nothing of Bonnie. Nothing of her fears!"_

_He pulled her close, incredibly close, the smell of him and the madness in his eyes almost overpowered her, and he shook her hard before pushing her away from the door. "My child will never go in the ground!" he shouted before swiftly opening the door and slamming it in her face._

No amount of tearful "let me in's" had budged him on that night. No amount of sobs or tears or threats. Not his mother, nor his sister, nor anyone one could manage to budge his resolve against keeping himself, his daughter and his grief locked inside.

And now it was dusk of the third day. He had been locked inside the room for over twenty four hours with his dead child. Scarlett stood outside the door, terrified. She wanted her daughter back, and she wanted her husband. She wanted to fall into his arms, into his chest. She wanted to take back the horrible things that she had said, that she had thought. She wanted him, as always to assuage her fears. To make everything all right. But he couldn't. This time he couldn't, there was no calming or loving or soothing that could bring Bonnie back, and she wondered, as she raised her hand and prepared to knock, if there was any that would bring him back.

"Rhett", she knocked softly, "Rhett please, please open the door, please let me in."

She waited, her forehead pressed against the cool unforgiving oak, there was no sound. No reply.

"Rhett," she started again softly, gently, pleading, "Please Rhett, please, let me see my Bonnie please."

Again there was no sound, and the tears started. "Please," she begged, "Please"

Suddenly, she heard the key shift inside the lock, the handle clicked once, and the door swung open. "Close the door behind you." He rasped. He was drunk, unsteady on his feet; he walked back to the chair beside her small bed and dropped into it.

Scarlett turned to shut the door, and stopped briefly, letting her eyes close. Her daughter, her Bonnie, her beloved last child lay dead upon the bed. After two days of wanting nothing more than to see her, to hold her, she did not know if she would even have the strength to turn around.

My God, my God, when she saw her. When she saw her so pale and so white and so small, she was overcome by a hurt so deep and so real, that she staggered.

"Bonnie!" she cried out as she raced to the bed. She stroked her black curls, still as soft as they had ever been and placed her hand atop of her plump rounded cheek, it was ice cold beneath her touch.

"Oh Bonnie," she whispered, the tears running down her face, "Oh Bonnie my baby, my dear sweet little girl." She reached forward and gently took the small lifeless hand inside her own, "My baby,," she cried, "My sweet baby I loved you so much, from the moment you were born darling Bonnie, from the moment your Auntie placed you into my arms. Oh Bonnie, how I miss you…how I miss you so much my little angel, how your momma misses you so much already."

"Stop it!" she heard the hoarse whisper from behind her. "Please…stop!"

She turned to face her husband, her daughters still, cold hand clasped within her own.

"Stop it, please" he groaned. "I cannot bear it!"

Gently she laid Bonnies hand down, and ran her fingers lovingly alongside her once cherubic face, before slowly turning to face him. He sat hunched over, his elbows on his knees, his face cradled in his hands.

"Oh, but you must." She said softly, "as hard as it is, you must bear it, we both must."

"I cannot!" He gasped, and at that moment he sounded like a drowning man.

She turned her back on her child and stepped toward him, her hand reaching, above his head, hovering. This man, who had become, since her miscarriage, of no more consequence in her mind than an old acquaintance, this man sat before her now, prone and open to an agony she could not bear to witness.

And she knew, as surely as she had known, when her dear father's mind had unraveled, that she would do anything, anything to bring him back.

Her hand rested lightly on his shoulder. He jumped at her touch, as if he had been burned. "Rhett," she started softly, haltingly, with tears in her eyes, and her own grief choking her, "Our Bonnie's gone, and no matter the pain….we must face it."

He shook his head and let out a short snort, "No, no. I will not."

"Darling," she whispered, "you must."

Slowly, he looked up at her. His face lined, and hollow, dark shadows of an unshaved beard, bloodshot sleepless eyes, fury, pain and agony reflected inside. "Don't you think I know she's gone!" he gasped. "My Bonnie's gone and I killed her! But I won't leave her Scarlett, I won't!"

How she wished she could have changed that day. How she wished for once she had stood up to Rhett to his senseless spoiling, his constant compliance to her every demand. How she wished she had stood and taken his hand and begged him no, her father had died jumping a horse, broken his neck, just like Bonnie. Oh how she wished she could have changed that day.

"Oh Rhett, it was an accident….a brutal, horrible, senseless….."

"Don't," he pushed her hand off his shoulder, "don't try to rein me in with those kind words Scarlett. You told me yourself, and I can see it in your eyes, in everyone's eyes, the pity…the pity for a man who murdered his own child!"

"The pity is there Rhett, but it's because everyone knows how you loved Bonnie. Darling everyone knows you've lost your heart, your love. The loss of a child, a dear sweet child, I know it is more than one could bear."

"You don't know!" He gasped.

How could he think she did not know? Was Bonnie not her child as well? How wrong he was, how terribly wrong. Oh how she longed to hear those pattering footsteps running across the hall, how she longed to hear her merry peals of laughter that rang through the house like a hundred little bells. How she would give anything, anything to feel those chubby little arms wrapped about her neck just one more time, to smell that thick childish heavenly scent that was unique only to her. She would give her own life, her own life for one more moment with Bonnie.

"I know." She said softly, tears running down her face. "I lost her too darling. I lost my Bonnie too."

She stood there silently, motionless, quiet sobs raking through her body and then she felt his hands, grabbing at her skirt, pulling her towards him, towards the chair where he sat, his arms circling her waist and his head, his great big head shaking with grief pushing itself onto her middle.

"I can't bear it!" he sobbed into her skirt. "I can't Scarlett, I can't!"

His body shook, and for the first time, since he had been a small child, he wept, letting out long uncontrollable sobs until he almost choked himself with sorrow. He held onto his wife with a force so strong, he thought he would snap her small body in half.

But her small body, stood strong. She wrapped her arms around his broad back, and held him tightly, pushing her grief aside to absorb his.

_****reviews are my muse ! -Pitty ******_


	11. Chapter 11

_I'm back. Work and life got crazy all of a sudden. Scarlett gets a case of nerves here. Always wondered how it was right before the wedding...Let me know. Have a small part two in the works...if anyone wants to see it._

**Two Years and Change**

They were dinning at the National. Their last official dinner before they became husband and wife, in fact, this was the last time that they would set eyes on one another prior to their wedding.

The evening had started out well enough. Rhett had shown up, at Aunt Pitty's an hour prior to their engagement, so that he may take a cup of tea with the elderly matron, Scarlett's aunt, and chaperone. He had acted formally, taken tea in the parlor, sans Scarlett and kindly reassured the woman that henceforth Scarlett would be taken care off to the best of his abilities. He had nodded kindly, and tried to assuage her most ridiculous fussing; assuring her without insult or any insinuation that he would henceforth maintain both Wade and Ella ,as well as the bulk of the Peachtree expenses.

He had bowed lightly to mammy, who had glared at him from across the room, and Uncle Peter, thanking them both for their fine influence and their ability to safely chaperone her throughout the war years, and in the past months since Frank's demise. Uncle Peter, had bowed down to the waist thanking Captain Butler effusively, and commenting over and over that he had been "simply doin' my job" Mammy on the other hand had eyed him suspiciously, before mumbling something along the lines of, "Haven't been watchin' my lamb close 'nuff !" wich caused Rhett to break into his famous, wide grin.

The carriage ride had been quiet, he held Scarlett's hand pressed between his own, and silently observed her as she gazed out the window. The soft glow of the evening light cast shadows on her face, and added a melancholy tone to her features. He knew she had been skeptical at first of their union, but after nearly a year of active courtship, and many, many happy times shared between the two of them, he had truly believed that she had been looking forward to their big day.

During the desert course, in a quiet and secluded area of the dining room, he reached out and took her hand. "What is it Darling?" He asked, softly, "You've been a million miles away all evening."

"I suppose I'm nervous." She answered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before retracting it.

"You can't be too nervous," he chuckled, "it's not as if it's your first wedding…you've had plenty of practice walking down the aisle."

"Oh stop it you cad, "she broke into a small smile, "It's just that I wonder….I wonder if we're making a mistake that's all."

"Oh, is that all?" he asked finishing his wine in one gulp, and shaking his head before returning the glass to the table. "Good God Scarlett, it's two days prior to our wedding, now is the time that you chose to share this sentiment?"

"Well," she shrugged, "I knew you'd be angry. And it's not as if I won't go through with it….I just wonder that's all."

He leaned back into his chair, and fixed his eyes on hers. "I'm not angry Scarlett, I just simply hoped that my future wife would deem our nuptials something to look forward to instead of….something she had to….merely….er…'go through with' , my word"

"I knew you would take this the wrong way, it's not that way at all it's just that…well we've become such good friends in this past year Rhett, and once we're wed, well I know things won't be the same between us, I know they won't…and that makes me wonder that's all."

"Well of course they won't be the same darling," he smiled, reaching out to take her hand again, and holding it firmly. "They'll be better, much better…and much more fun, you'll see."

"How," she asked pouting, "How will they be better?"

"Well first of all," he smiled, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, "I'll be able to see you whenever I want without having to run the gauntlet of your Aunt Pitty, and Uncle Peter and worst of all Mammy! And I might even be able to show you some affection without running the risk of receiving a rolling pin about the head."

Scarlett laughed and threw her head back. Oh he did make her laugh; Rhett Butler had a way of alleviating all of her worries, no matter what.

"Honestly Scarlett," he continued, "The last time we were in the parlor together, I felt that I was at serious risk of injury."

Scarlett drew her free hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter as she recalled a very recent and somewhat passionate moment that had transpired between her and Rhett in Aunt Pitty's parlor. With Uncle Peter off to collect Prissy and Wade, Aunt Pitty retired upstairs for her afternoon rest, and Mammy off in the kitchen they had taken some unusual liberties.

One kiss had turned to two, and two into three, until Rhett, never having been accustomed to such strictly confined advances had let his hand roam up her arm until his fingers hovered just above her breast. Scarlett had her head thrown back and her eyes closed in the throws of passion, and Rhett with his face buried in her neck had not noticed Mammy, who entered the parlor and stood there gaping, a hand on her apron, and the other yielding a rolling pin.

"Cap'n Butler!" she had hollered. "I don know what you is used to, but that type a behavior aint permitted here! You bes be keepin yo hands to yerself, and Miss Scarlett!" she glared at her with eyes that grew as wide and round as saucers, "You aint ma lamb no more, but don you think I won drag you upstairs by yo ear if I need to. You aint got no business behavin' such a way. You get yo self up them stairs, fo yo' mama be rollin in her grave. And cap'n Butler, I suspect this tea time is over!"

Rhett laughed on, "I'll be glad to not have Mammy hindering my every advance, of that you can be certain!"

Scarlett smiled, "It was fun though, was it not, having all of those clandestine encounters, why it made me feel like a maiden again."

"It was a delight," he conceded sarcastically, "But I look forward to not having my affections thwarted."

Even in the darkened room his eyes burned brightly. Scarlett had never known a man like Rhett. A man who's very blood ran with passion. Yes he had been respectful, extremely respectful of her desire to maintain her virtue, throughout their long courtship, but she knew that once that ring slipped on her finger, his vigor would hold no bounds.

And now, with their wedding night just two short days away she grew nervous, quite nervous indeed. It wasn't as if she was necessarily nervous of the act itself. Why despite, her coquetry she was no maiden. She had married twice and borne two children, certainly she was no stranger to the secrets of the marriage bed.

The simple fact of the matter was that she found no absolutely no pleasure in the act. In fact the very thought of it, made her skin crawl. She felt it was awkward and uncomfortable, and had always felt, after the brief mandatory encounters with her husbands, quite humiliated and ashamed.

Rhett on the other hand, made no efforts to hide his ardor. Why it was as if passion embodied his very soul. Oh he had made it quite clear, on more than one occasion that he simply could not wait to get his hands upon her. In fact, she quite suspected that the only reason he had actually proposed matrimony was the mere circumstance that he was absolutely certain he could not have had her in any other way.

And now, with this big even right around the corner, she suspected that she somehow would have to try and muster some enthusiasm within herself. And if she could not, would he be disappointed? She did not even know if a man could tell whether or not his fumbling repulsed the woman he was with or not. Her two previous husbands had certainly not taken any notice. But somehow, somehow she suspected Rhett would. She felt sure that he would notice and then….well she didn't even want to think on what would happen.

He had experience, plenty of it, with wanton woman, and certainly they knew more about the ways to please a man than she did. Good Lord would he expect those things from her? Those things, being of course, things she had no idea about. She suspected, that perhaps there was more to relations then lying immobilized whilst gritting your teeth and hoping for brevity.

And it was this aspect, this very real and carnal aspect of their wedding that filled her with trepidation.

"A-hem" Rhett cleared his throat, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze again, "My pet you're wandering again. Should I worry?" He asked, with a slight teasing lilt in his voice, though when she looked up, there was indeed no humor in his dark eyes. "You aren't going to leave me at the altar are you my pet?"

"Oh fie Rhett!" she exclaimed, "Don't be so….melodramatic….I'm just a little…pre-occupied that's all. Why a woman has every right to be a bit on edge before her wedding night…I mean wedding day doesn't she?"

Even though she had corrected her mistake quickly, and pulled a napkin up to dab at her lips in order to try and hide the flush that was quickly spreading on her cheeks, all of her efforts had been in vain. Rhett Butler had caught her careless slip of the tongue and had understood in an instant where the direct root of all her worry lay.

"Ahhh, so I see," he said leaning his head back, and suppressing a smile that risked making an appearance on his handsome face, "It is the wedding day that makes you a tad nervous. " He wiped his mouth and dropped the napkin unceremoniously atop the table. "Well, you have misguided nerves my pet, I assure you, and everything will be in order. We've a short ceremony, and the reception following is bound to go off without a hitch, I believe Miss Melly has put the better part of the past month planning it. Now come my darling," he stood and with a bowed head offered her his hand, "come stroll the gardens with me so I may enjoy my last cigar with you as a single man."

Scarlett smiled lightly and took his hand allowing herself to be led into the massive hotel gardens. This past year, with Rhett had indeed been a bit of a whirlwind. Why, Rhett had asked her to be his wife practically before Frank's body had gone into the ground. And though she had initially thought that she would never fall into the institution of marriage again, something about the way Rhett described it, something about his smiling face, and his deep longfull eyes and his smoldering kisses had made her say yes.

Indeed she had said yes, and accepted a marriage proposal in the very parlor where her deceased husband had lain a mere twenty four hours earlier. If her hand in Frank's death did not strike her straight to hell, well surely having done that, and letting herself succumb to Rhett's passionate embrace, in that very parlor would seal her deal with the devil himself.

But despite the devil, and her almost certain future residence in the nether regions of the universe, she had said yes. Or, perhaps Rhett was the devil himself, for his lips and his hands and his swarthy good looks, when combined with the reality of his limitless fortune had rendered her unable to deny him anything, well…almost anything

After she had agreed, why he had simply disappeared, disappeared from the parlor, from Atlanta ,and from her life, for nearly four months.

And those four months had been so busy for Scarlett, so busy; she had actually almost forgotten her promise. Well, of course she remembered, but she hardly ever thought on it, why she had the mills, and the store, not to mention Wade, and a constantly squawking Ella. Truth be told, when on the eve of the fifth month, she opened the door to find Rhett Butler grinning broadly on her front porch she had been a bit surprised.

But now, with her hand tucked neatly within the crook of his arm, strolling the darkened paths of the hotel's magnificent gardens, the reality of her impending union was so real, and so close at hand, her worries could no longer procrastinate, and she had been forced to grasp them all at once. Never mind the promise of a lifetime spent with Rhett, a man she did not love and who more often than not had the power to drive her to the very brink of madness. Bu she had very much, in a never mentioned but clearly understood exchange, promised her body to him as well. And though she was certain she would be able to ignore, and put off his near constant bantering and goading attacks on her nature, she was quite certain she would not be able to do the same where her virtue was concerned.

It was finally time, as her Pa, the great Gerald O'Hara had often said, to pay the fiddler.

Fortunately her anxious reverie was once again interrupted by Rhett as he pulled her up into the dimly lit gazebo and held her loosely in his arms.

"Alright Scarlett," he said solemnly, resting his cigar on the ledge of the structure, "You can't fool me any longer, I noticed your erroneous slip of the tongue during dinner my pet, and I must say…though I did suspect a bit of apprehension concerning our first ….er…union, I never once imagined …."

"Oh stop it Rhett!" she struggled to pull herself out of his loose hold, "what I said at diner was a slip of a tongue a nothing more….don't be so…conceited. Not everything revolves around you!"

He laughed quietly and picked up his cigar again, leaning himself casually back against the railing, and folding his arms against his broad chest. "Well I'm happy then," he exclaimed with bravado, "because I'm quite keen on the prospect of our wedding night and I would hate to have your nerves spoil the fun."

"Oh you are so vile!" she exclaimed, and though she was teasing, he took caution to note that there was a true hint of tension in her voice. "Is there nothing you don't see fit to goad me over?"

He walked over and placing his hands on her waist turned her to face him. "You're right Scarlett, "he said softly, "I was baiting you. But only because I can see you are so ….concerned about that night, and I'm trying to understand why."

She closed her eyes and shook her head softly, thinking about the words and choosing them carefully. "These past couple of years," she began slowly, "You've become as good friend as I've ever had…and now…everything will change."

"It will change," he answered her softly, "I'll be an even better friend to you Scarlett, I'll be your husband."

"Aug!" she said in frustration, her green eyes opening up and he could see the tears of her frustration, her inability to make him understand coming to the surface. "And as a husband you'll expect to take my body when you see fit….and judging from your….ah…temperament during the past few months I am guessing it will be quite often! How can you…" she paused for a moment, then fixed her eyes on his, "how can you expect me to remain your friend after …..after…..all of that ?"

He stopped and his eyebrows shot up. Rhett Butler was very possibly, for the first time in his adult life rendered totally and completely speechless. He didn't know what to think or how to possibly respond to such a clear and frank admission. He had always known that her previous husbands had held no pleasures for her, but Lord during the course of the past year they had shared more than one quite heated embrace that had sent him home aching and he had quite suspected they had done the same to her. Perhaps he had been wrong.

Perhaps again, it was him she did not want to be with. Well he was quite certain that she found him attractive, her racing heartbeat and stammering exclamations had made that quite clear. Perhaps it was the notion of his…ardor. Did she perchance think he would be unable to keep himself in check? Could it be his size, did she fear that she would be overpowered by his sheer mass, forced somehow against her desires. Did she even have desires?

"Scarlett," he began earnestly, then paused for a moment and swallowed audibly. "Scarlett," he began again.

"My word," she exclaimed softly. "I've managed the impossible. I've shocked the great Captain Butler to silence."

"Well I…it's just that I had no idea Scarlett. We've shared so many embraces…and they've grown quite heated…how could I even begin to suspect you felt so…strongly about…er…"he finished, letting the sentence dangle lamely between them.

"Do you see now why I never told you?" she asked quietly.

"I do, but certainly you could have…mentioned."

"Should I be concerned now?" she asked pointedly, "Will I be the one left at the altar?"

"Good Lord no!" he raised his hand and carefully cupped her cheek. "You have a case of the nerves Scarlett. Like any new bride, but perhaps worse, because while they have no idea of what the marriage bed will bring, and they can only begin to imagine, you on the other hand, are quite certain. But I assure you my pet, what you experienced before, and what you will experience with me are worlds apart. Incomparable acts. And I promise you, you need not worry."

"So, you won't leave me at the altar?" she asked lamely, an attempt at humor.

"No," he answered with a smirk and a soft chuckle, "I will not leave you at the altar and I most definitely will not force myself upon you on our wedding night. Ahem, or any night thereafter. Of that you can be certain."

She smiled softly and pressed her lips together in a line, "May I be as bold as to hope that there might be separate ….arrangements at first?"

He chuckled softly, "There won't be separate chambers Scarlett, and not even separate beds. I said I would not force myself upon you and I won't, but I certainly expect to have you in my arms for the entirety of the night….and every night thereafter. What you chose to do once you are there will be entirely up to you."

"So you will be amiable to a chaste marriage?" she asked, her eyebrow shooting up into a perfect arch.

'Heavens no!" he guffawed, "And neither will you. I have had every indication my pet that once we get over this distracting case of nerves that you've acquired, chastity will not be on your mind for long!"

"Oh you horrible arrogant thing you!" she seethed, smacking him on the chest in irritation. "How dare you even suggest."

"I dare," he said with a wink, and that long slow Charlestonian drawl which he reserved especially for this occasion, an occasion where a severe case of knee buckling was in order. "I can be quite persuasive in my manner," he whispered softly in her ear.

"Hmmm" she sighed, her arms reaching out, almost on their own accord to wrap around his neck.

"You see," he whispered softly as he began to place a long succession of feather light kisses along the length of her neck, followed by a somewhat sharp nip which brought her quickly back to attention.

"Ouch!" she hollered bringing her hand up to her neck.

"You see," he continued briskly, with a laugh, and his taunting voice; his slow amorous purr having been replaced for the moment, "quite persuasive!"

"Why you horrible cad!" she cried out her hand rubbing on her neck. "Why you better have not left a mark you conceited thing .You know my gown won't cover any of your …"

"My love bites?" he finished with a laugh, and pursed his lips quite pointedly. "You're right darling with the décolletage that I suspect you've chosen, much against my better judgment I might add, I do suppose a love bite simply won't do."

"It won't and I'm certain you've marked me." She said again.

He laughed lightly. "Remember the first time I did…mark you. Good Lord, I thought Mammy would take me by the ear and drag me out of the house. I have to say, I felt quite put off by her angry glares."

"You felt put off ?" she asked incredulously, "Why the nerve, you have no idea what she put me through, she spent the better half of the morning chastising me, and bringing up compresses of witch hazel !"

"Well if they worked," he started with a laugh, "I suggest that you might want to try one upon your neck this evening, just in case."

"My God Rhett, have you no head?" she gasped in irritation. "How could you have left a mark?"

"I do have a head," he replied solemnly, pulling her close again, and placing a gentle kiss atop of the bite mark. "But I was using it for other matters, far more important matters."

"Oh fie! What could those possibly be?" she quipped, looking up happily into his eyes.

"Calming my future wife's errant nerves." He replied with a gentle smile, "and reassuring her, wholeheartedly so that she will not have a single worry in her pretty little head that will ruin her wedding day."

She looked up at him, and she saw, despite the raw hunger, and the open sensuality, she saw that in those dark eyes, in that lazy smile there was still her friend, her dearest friend. The one who spent the better half of the past year making sure that she knew, undoubtedly, that choosing to spend the rest of her life with him, would be no mistake.

Oh they had fought, often like cats and dogs, he had teased and goaded and baited her to no end. He had mocked her business sensibilities, her mothering skills and what he described as her gaudy and ostentatious taste in fashion. Oh he disagreed with her on politics, etiquette and religion. He had no hold on morals, and could care less about his tainted reputation. But he was also sweet and kind, and intelligent. He was more handsome than should be allowed, and could charm the pants of the devil if he so desired. Oh he was generous, he spoiled her to distraction. And he was witty, and cheeky and just plain fun. He could draw a smile and laughter out of her on any given day. And she could tell him anything, anything at all.

And when she thought of him, of spending the rest of her life with him. Of fights, and anger and laughter and dancing and yes, even of relations, countless of intimate passionate moments that she was certain their life would have, after this evening, despite the ever present case of nerves, she felt quite certain, certain and determined and truth be told, even a bit happy to be marching down the aisle.

He smiled again, and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "I take it, I've calmed your nerves my pet?" he asked. Then he stood and taking her hand inside the crook of his arm he commenced heading back towards the front of the hotel and their awaiting carriage.

"I better get you home," he started, as if their previous discussion had never occurred at all, "home to your nice chaste, lonely bed. You'll need plenty of rest my pet, so don't stay up too late listening to dear Pitty's warning's about the dangers of the marriage bed with a scoundrel like me…..I don't want her to strike more fear into that already weary heart….and speaking of fear, I'm afraid our genteel encounter has pushed us well past your curfew, and un-chaperoned as well miss, with a blackguard no less! My word Scarlett, I don't know who should be more afraid to set foot on Pitty's porch, you or I ? I am no coward my pet, but I assure you, if we spot Mammy on the front porch with a rolling pin in her hand I will simply refuse to leave the haven of our carriage, and furthermore….."

And the last evening of their single, unwed lives continued in that very same manner, Rhett's random rambleing, and Scarlett's stiffeled, annoyed giggles. She knew well what he was up to, and though his un-ending discourse was irritating at times, the gentle pressure of his hand around hers, and the warmth of his voice, did wonders to relieve her nerves. And she smiled to herself, as she looked out the window, and thought perhaps he was right, perhaps this marriage would be different, perhaps it would be fun.


	12. Chapter 12

_Hey...I'm back, by semi-popular demmand ! Thank you so much to all you PM'rs who pulled me back into the world of FF. I am very happy to be writing again, and sometimes, all you need is couple of really good, heartfelt reviews...hint...hint. Anyhow this was tough, getting back on the ole' horse. And for the first time ever...a part two...Enjoy !_

**Lune 2**

"My my my Scarlett," he said softly, with a sly grin tugging at the side of his lip, as the carriage pulled to a stop before the house. "It seems as if the stage has been set my dear for one last clandestine encounter."

"Do be serious, for once!" she answered, rolling her eyes.

"I am!" he said with a glint in his eye. "Look my pet, the porch is barely lit, why I could ravish you right on that lovely porch swing and satisfy one my longest most well endured fantasies…"

"Rhett!" she hissed, smacking him on the arm, as he dismounted the carriage and turned to face her.

"Please…my darling," he drawled, once again calling forth his deep, lazy purr of a voice, "allow me to accompany you to the door."

"Don't you dare try to use that voice on me Rhett Butler, you seem to think you're as gifted as a snake charmer when you employ that tone !" she snipped.

"That my dear, would make you the snake." He laughed, "and though you do at times have a forked tongue I don't know if I would go that far…" he mused, as she yanked his arm again.

"I knew your sweetness wouldn't last," she fussed, "Can you not hold back one of your attacks, for the last five minutes of this evening Rhett, really!"

"Hmmm," he drawled, as his arms wrapped around her and he took a step closer, "perhaps I can hold back one of my attacks, but certainly not all…."

His voice trailed off as his lips pressed into hers, and suddenly all the joking and anxiety and fussing and wondering was gone, and she remembered all at once the passions that a kiss like his could bring. Her lips parted gently, and his tongue slipped slowly inside, an act so wanton in and of itself, that it did make her almost go week at the knees. His one hand gripped her harder, pulling her up against his body, while the other trailed up her neck to bury itself into her hair.

She could feel him, _all_ of him, and suddenly her heart raced, and she thought briefly that perhaps he had been right at dinner; perhaps he would have no troubles leading her down the flaming path of passions. And with her eyes shut, and her head tipped back, she let him lead her, ever so slowly to the aforementioned porch swing, the future sight of their lustful encounter.

And just as he sat, pulling her with him, in an embrace that proved to grow steamier by the minute the front door swung open loudly, causing them both to jump nearly out of their skins.

"Ouch!" Scarlett screeched, Rhett's hand having pulled her hair with its rapid departure from being buried in her tousled locks. Her cheeks blazed with embarrassment as she quickly reached to re-adjust the front of her gown, which had fallen askew during their rapturous embrace.

"Oh Mammy!" she started, "I…had no idea that you were still…"

"Uh-huh!" she responded with a sharp nod, her large round eyes fixed menacingly on Rhett Butler, who struggled to keep a straight face, as he buttoned his jacket , and quickly adjusted his trousers.

"Why we were just …." Scarlett started again.

"I knows what you wuz _jus'_ doin. " Mammy answered with a frown. "I wuzin' born yesterday chile, an you knows better than to try that foolishness on this here porch!"

"Why Mammy!" Scarlett exclaimed, her cheeks growing even redder than before, "we were simply, saying goodnight!"

"Uh-huh ," Mammy nodded slowly, " You gonna have pleny o' time for that kinda goodnight once you is married, for now yous still ma lamb, an believe me you aint gonna be sayin goodnight likethat if I kin help it. Now Cap'n Butler," she started, her frown growing deeper, almost into a scowl, "I think is time you be on yo way….Miss Scarlett got herself a busy day tomorrow, an she don' need to be passin the time doin Lord knows what on this here porch !"

Rhett cleared his throat, and rose off the porch swing. Lord that Mammy could make him feel like a school boy again.

"An when yo mother gits here in the mornin'," she continued, her large round eyes boring into him, "why I gonna have to be bitin' my tongue, for I tell her what you done tried right here on this porch!"

Rhett smiled, he hadn't been caught in such a compromising situation in …weeks by mammy, and the mere thought that she would approach his mother!

Suddenly, unable to hold it back any more he let out a laugh, "Oh Mammy, I'm sorry," he said "I just haven't had the threat of my mother held over my head, in so many years, not since I was a boy . Please, please, forgive my manners in regards to….er….Scarlett."

Mammy grunted and Scarlett turned, and began lightly shoving her back towards the house. "Oh stop it Mammy," she said in a huff, "Why Rhett's a grown man, goodness! Now go on! Get back inside; I'll be in, in a minute!"

Mammy turned to glare at her and Scarlett shoved her again, "Go on Mammy!"

"Good Lord!" she sighed once Mammy had been safely pushed back into the house, "I can't believe the situations I let you get me into Rhett, really!"

"Me?" he laughed, incredulously, "Oh, don't act the innocent my little vixen, you came to me quite willingly if I recall correctly!"

"Oh don't you dare!" she pouted, "why you practically…." But she broke into a smile and let the sentence just fizzle between them. "I bet Mammy will be glad to see us married." She said suddenly.

He raised his eyebrows, "Somehow, I doubt that my pet, I suspect your mammy wishes you were marrying anyone but me!"

"Oh," she said quietly, "Well you know what I meant; she'll finally get to let her guard down a bit."

"And it will drive her mad." He added softly.

"She doesn't truly hate you Rhett," she said quickly, "She's just…watching over me."

"I know darling," he said softly taking a step forward so that they were once again inches apart. "And, I'm glad for it. Though I do wish she would have kept this tight a hold over you when you were contemplating your moves on Frank Kennedy…that would have spared me…." He squinted one eye and did some quick calculations, "Oh two years and some change."

"Did you really wait for me all that time?" she asked, her green eyes alight in the darkness.

"Yes," he whispered, taking a step forward so that their bodies were now lightly touching. "Yes, I waited for you _all_ that time….and even longer, much, much, longer." He said softly before leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers.

Her hands rose up almost of their own volition and wrapped themselves around his neck. Her fingers stroking his silky black hair, as she recalled, the heat of the first kiss they had ever shared together.

"Rhett…I…." she began, and faltered.

"Hmmm," he hummed softly against her lips, his deep rich voice sending shivers down her spine; "Years…and years…and… one more day."

Her lips parted gently and her head hung back as she waited for another passionate kiss, but this time it was her forehead his lips pressed warmly against. And as Scarlett opened her eyes she found herself gazing into his.

"Tradition says I'm not to see you for 24 hours prior to the wedding Scarlett," he said with a soft smile, "So this is….it. Our last goodbye until I see you at the altar."

Her breath grew heavy, and a wave of nervousness and panic overtook her. A panic that she had felt prior to both her previous marriages. A panic that meant her life, as she knew it, was soon to slip away.

"Don't." Rhett said, feeling her small supple frame tense in his arms. "Don't panic Scarlett." He whispered gently. "Just relax darling. Let tomorrow come, and stop fighting it."

She looked up into his broad handsome face. Her small supple frame still pressed boldly against his. "Aren't you nervous Rhett?" she questioned, he green eyes narrowing slightly as they fixed on his. "Aren't you even the least bit nervous?"

He shook his head and chuckled. "If you're enquiring as to whether I'm nervous that you'll leave me at the altar, I've got two men posted at the station, and one guarding the carriage house….I think I'll be fine."

"I'm serious Rhett," she gasped, grasping the lapels of his jacket and giving them a shake. "Aren't you nervous that maybe…just maybe…you've made a mistake? Why…." She continued, her eyes widening, and her words spilling recklessly out of her mouth, "you never even wanted a wife, you told me so countless of times. And I'm certain that if I had just….if I had just…well you know… then maybe…"she swallowed hard and struggled to push herself out of his grasp.

"Scarlett stop it!" he chided, his arms going up to her shoulders and grasping her firmly before holding her back at arm's length. "Do you honestly think that I'm only marrying you so that I could…bed you?" he asked incredulously, a dark eyebrow raised.

"Rhett stop!" She cried out softly.

"No you stop," he stated firmly. "I had that opportunity if you recall, years back and I didn't take it." He shook his head slowly to accentuate his point. "And I've had every opportunity this past year," he finished with a wry smirk.

Both her eyebrows shot up in disbelief, "and what is that supposed to mean?" she spat out.

"It means, Scarlett, that had I intended on bedding you, I would have done so by now with no such fuss, and certainly without a proposal."

"Why you conceited rat!" she seethed struggling to get out of his firm hold, "How dare you imply that…"

"Oh calm down Scarlett," he laughed, "I'm not implying a thing, I'm simply stating, that I've never, even tried to lead you down that path."

"What!" she cried out, "why you've tried to lead me down that path on practically every unchaperoned carriage ride we've ever had, and after every ball, and every dinner and…and…and…"

"And hush darling," He pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers; "I always stopped didn't I? I never so much as unbuttoned a single…."

"Oh you've unbuttoned plenty," she cut him off, remembering the shear fear and shock she had felt the first time that his fingers had trailed down her back, and had started to nimbly undue that small row of buttons there. Her heart had seized in terror, as she felt his warm hand skimming her bare flesh, terror and something else, something, rich and strong and….forbidden, which had gathered suddenly at her very core. But in truth he had never gone further than that; never further than the first few small buttons, followed by his fingers sliding swiftly inside and pressing themselves against the warm, smooth flesh of her back, where it rose above her corset, massaging gently, before suddenly trailing slowly up onto her neck and shoulders again.

He pulled back and looked at her, beautiful in the moonlight, a red flush against her cheeks. "Ah, I see that maybe you're right," he whispered, "I may have undone a couple of buttons here and there."

"Yes," she answered, suddenly out of breath. "A couple…on more than one occasion."

"Hmmm," he leaned forward and captured her lips in his. "Yes, a couple….here and…." His hand trailed down her back to the small row of perfect mother of pearl buttons on her gown, "…there."

"Don't you dare Rhett Butler?" She pulled away, "If you don't think that mammy is on the other side of that door, ready for a full and thorough inspection when I walk inside than you are severely mistaken!"

"Ahhh yes, Mammy" He hung his head back and closed his eyes momentarily, the hand on her back running smoothly over the small buttons before resting on her shoulder. "My advances thwarted one last time by mammy."

"I have no intention of walking through that door half dressed." She continued, one hand flying up to smooth the front of her gown.

"And I have no intention of being knocked unconscious by a rolling pin." He sighed, pulling away from her body, and taking her small hand inside the crook of his arm. "I've waited this long," he mumbled more to himself than to her, "I can certainly wait another day!"

Silently he walked her the remaining few steps to the front door and turned to face her. His brows knit together in worry and the right side of his mouth was pulled up in a half smirk. "Now, you know I've never given a damn about traditions Scarlett, and if it wasn't for my mother and sister …and, well your Aunt Pitty I'd be on this porch in the morning…"

Scarlett looked up at him and smiled, his mother and sister…her aunt Pitty, just who did he think he was trying to fool. As if he had ever stuck to a single tradition in his entire life. It suddenly came to her as she looked up into his strong eager face. She saw how he struggled to keep his composure, how he fought to steady his own nerves.

"It's 24 hours Rhett," she smiled, "surely I'll manage."

He snorted lightly and shook his head. She could see right through him, he realized, swallowing hard. "But if you don't…."

"I will." She laughed. "As you so bluntly stated so many times before Rhett Butler, this isn't my first trip down the aisle!"

"Looks like you've gotten over your case of "the nerves" quite suddenly." He smirked as he leaned forward to open her door.

"And it looks like," she answered, before stepping inside, "that your just beginning with yours."

And as he stood on the porch and watched the door close gently behind her, Rhett Butler realized that this would be indeed the longest 24 hours of his life.


	13. Chapter 13

_Hi, I'm back again with another one. Thank you all for the amazing reviews on my last installment. Especially to those of you who chose to PM me, or to review each and every chapter in a row. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you. This is an odd little ditty, quite random. I hope you enjoy it. I'm taking requests for "moments" at the moment so PM me if you have any thoughts. Started a short piece on their wedding night...any interest ? Hard to fathom those two._

**HEALING SALVE**

She smelled it instantly as soon as she stepped through the door and into the kitchen. That scent of herbs, and alcohol, of something else she couldn't quite put her finger on and she closed her eyes for a second. That scent, that scent brought back so many memories, it was childhood and Tara, and her Pa. She couldn't recognize it exactly, but she knew it so well.

"Dilcey," she called out from the doorway, "What is that smell, that kind of…"herby scent"?

"Oh Miss Scarlett, that be Pork, he's makin' a salve."

That's what it is, she thought, its Pa's salve. She smiled, and closed her eyes again, remembering that scent, carrying the small ceramic bowl to her mother in the parlor. She remembered Gerald, Pa, wincing as her mother knelt before him gently working the ointment onto his sore knee. The salve! She smiled, of course, Pa's salve!

"Pa's salve?" she asked opening her eyes, "its Pa's salve isn't it Pork?"

Pork laughed lightly, coming up towards her with a small ceramic bowl in his hands, "Tha's right Miss Scarlett, this here's your Pa's special salve, we still usin Mammy's recipe. You done remembered it!"

Her eyes lit up when she looked at the bowl. "Why it's the same bowl!" she exclaimed.

"It is," he chuckled, "this here's part of the same mortar an' pestle been used at Tara, since the day your mamma got there. She done make all her medicines in there, an mammy done saved it all these years."

"Oh," Scarlett reached a hand out and placed it on her chest. "Oh Pork, it brings back so many memories of Pa!"

"Uh-huh," he nodded slightly, "it does miss, an now, we been usin it for a new master. On days when he shoulder hurtin' Mr. Rhett sez he jus' can't do without."

"Rhett?" she asked raising her brow in an inquisitive arch. "Since when's Rhett been using Pa's salve?"

Pork looked down and shifted his weight uncomfortably. All the servants knew Mr. Rhett and Miss Scarlett weren't sharing quarters anymore, but this was downright embarrassing. He rubbed his jaw with his free hand, "Well, I reckon he been usin' it for a coupla years now. His shoulder done ache so bad when we get this kinda weather."

"His shoulder?" she asked.

"Yes'm" he answered looking down at his feet, "he done take a bad fall as a chile an when them storm clouds come in it ache's something awful."

"You don't say." She said quietly, a small frown forming. Did she know so little about her own husband? Did the servants actually know more about him than her? Well Pork maybe, he was after all Rhett's valet, but still, she thought, how could she not have known.

"Pork," she asked lightly, once again remembering her mother's nimble fingers working their magic on her father's knee. Or the days he spent, with his leg up, by the fire, awaiting her return, her gentle touch, while Scarlett poured him a whiskey and listened to his merry tales. "Pork, who… who works it in?"

Pork looked down again, and there was a hush in the kitchen, she could swear, that if his skin wasn't as dark as it was she could have seen a flush spread across his cheeks

"Well…I reckon Mr. Rhett…does it hiself." He said quietly.

So, he remembered too, the fine and gentle treatment bestowed on his previous master by his gentle wife. Of course he did, he had loved Pa, and surely the others from Tara did too. They must think me a heartless witch she thought.

"Oh," she said again. Of course he would do it himself, who else would do it, surely not one of the female servants, and not Pork, why he was Rhett's valet, but still, a man would not touch another that way. "Is he…upstairs?" she asked lightly.

"Yes'm" Pork answered "he done come home early, his shoulder been achin' all day he says."

My Lord, she didn't even know where her own husband was, much less that he was in pain. What a picture she had painted for the servants. What a picture she had painted for herself. The loving wife who has so much to do running stores and lumber mills that she doesn't give a moment's care to her very husband, or her very children for that matter, because she was certain the servants thought that as well.

"Well," she said, as she rubbed her hands across her skirt to smooth the non-existent creases, "perhaps I can take it up to him Pork, I'm headed up there myself."

"Yes ma'am," he said with a slight bow, his eyes still averted from hers as he reached out and handed her the bowl.

"Oh and Pork," she called sweetly, "can you please thank mammy for me, for having held onto this bowl, and those recipes for all these years."

"Yes ma'am, I will ma'am," he said bowing once again as he backed away from her, further into the kitchen.

It was irritating really, she thought, how over the years , the servants that had really been her servants, meaning Tara's servants, came to..._like_ Rhett, better than they liked her. Though they treated them the same, each always with unsurpassed respect, she had a sense that most of them, well almost all of them really, just liked Rhett better.

There was always more…warmth, around him, more smiles and certainly less nervousness. Why lately, even the servants that had known her since she was a child had taken habit of these numerous short bows and baking away from her. Good Lord, why Pork had practically helped raise her….how could he be so….nervous around her. The only one who really had remained steadfast in her devotion was mammy. Even though, truth be told, she had often walked in on warm light laughter between Mammy and Rhett and the children in the nursery. And on those days, when she had walked in, it seemed almost as if the warmth just instantly evaporated from the room. Humph, Scarlett thought as she headed up the massive staircase, perhaps she'd have to pay more attention to being less….firm, more…amiable.

Once in front of Rhett's door, Scarlett, paused for a moment, the cogs in her mind slowly starting to work in the reality of where this…salve could take her, and where it could not. She could, she supposed knock briskly, enter and lay it on the table, turning quickly on her heal and heading out the door.

She could on the other hand, let the salve work it's magic, for she remembered, when she was a child, that it had been almost like magic, when her mother worked it into her Pa's knee. Why, it wasn't just the salve that worked its way into her Pa's aching knee, it was her mother's warmth and kindness, her gentle nature which flowed from her hands onto his aching joints. And for her Pa, well that warmth had always made him calm and…merry. He would sink into the comfort and open up with one warm tale after another.

She recalled, how that minty, spicy scent had been almost like a bell, calling the three O'Hara girls from wherever they were to run in and sit quietly at their father's feet in the parlor, then either, knitting, or sewing, or merely curled up by the fire, they would regale in the serene and soothing warmth brought on by their mother…and the salve.

But, Scarlett thought, as she placed her hand upon the knob readying herself to enter, it was probably her mother's love and not just a concoction of herbs and lard and lord knows what that could draw warmth from a person. And besides, she had never done a thing like that to Rhett, and surely, she wasn't meant to start now. Surely not now, when really soothing one another was the last thing on their minds, especially after the words they had hurled at each other the previous night. She supposed, with a small laugh, that if she touched him, she was probably more apt to leave a scorch mark behind.

"Oh Scarlett," said Rhett startled to find his bedroom door opening, and his wife facing him with the small familiar bowl in her hands.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, "I should have knocked…I wasn't thinking."

His dark eyes fixed on hers for a moment, searching, as always searching for something. "You don't need to knock," he scoffed, "It hasn't come to that yet has it?"

"No," she said mildly, walking in and placing the bowl on the small table by his chair, "I suppose it hasn't…not yet anyway."

He laughed and shook his head, "Oh don't act so stung by my words darling, and at the rate we're going we both know a knock and a key will probably be required before long."

She didn't answer, but rather looked around. It had been months since she'd been in Rhett's chamber, and in that time she noticed he had taken an opportunity to fashion it to his liking. The space, like the man it housed was extremely masculine, yet oddly refined. She walked towards the large ornate fireplace and ran a finger slowly across the mantle, housed upon it was a large wooden ship, a model with sails and lines so finely crafted it must have cost him a fortune. There was a small wooden box which seemed quite ancient really, and an equally ancient brass barometer on a wooden stand beside it.

"Does it meet your approval?" she heard him saying, and she turned to face him.

"I was just…looking," she responded quietly, "I haven't been in here in ages, and you've made it so different from how it used to be."

"Yes," he snorted lightly, "I suppose it's a lot less…er…garish?"

"Oh don't be rude!" she snapped, "I was merely making an observation, but if we can't be civil than…there's really no point."

"No, no, I apologies Scarlett, please continue with your observations, I'm curious as to how you view my bedchamber."

"It's utterly masculine and utterly you." She said simply, turning her bed and heading towards the door, pausing momentarily with her hand on the handle before turning to face him, "Pork says your shoulder's been hurting ." it was more of a statement than a question and she had no idea why she made it.

"Yes," he answered as he reached for the tie on his robe and undid the knot, "lately these storm clouds have brought on a terrible ache."

"Oh," she startled, looking down, "are you undressing? I should…"

"It's just my robe Scarlett," he laughed, cutting her off. "You don't expect me to put it on over the silk do you?"

Good lord but she was modest, after years of marriage and sharing a bed, the sight of him bare chested still caused her to avert her eyes. Perhaps it was a habit, years of practiced coquettishness, perhaps it was the memories that great big chest brought back, and perhaps it was the sheer manliness of his muscular form that brought a pinkness and heat to her cheeks.

She coughed lightly and swallowed. "Will you be all right then?" she asked awkwardly.

I usually am," he answered lightly as he reached two fingers into the salve and stretched his arm across to reach his opposite shoulder, "this salve works wonders."

Her eyes flicked up quickly and she saw how he grimaced lightly as he started working the tender flesh of his shoulder, his back squared and his neck held off at an odd angle.

She stared and thought once more of her mother. The lessons she would have passed onto Scarlett had she lived past the war. Oh many lessons on being a wife, a mother, and a lady. She surely wouldn't have married Frank, or Rhett for that matter, but whoever she had married would have probably received much kinder treatment. Certainly she would not have stood in her husband's bed chamber and watched him struggle to reach an aching spot upon his back.

So, with these thoughts in her mind, and without giving herself the chance to stop the utterance before it came forth, she opened her mouth, "That looks uncomfortable," she said quickly before regret could set in, "Would you like me to help?"

Rhett's hand froze above his shoulders and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Was his wife, the creature who had not laid a hand on him in years, truly offering to massage his aches? Perhaps she had fallen and bumped her head, he thought cynically, perhaps he had bumped his. "Why yes Scarlett, "he answered slowly, his eyes fixed on hers, "I would love that actually."

"Very well," she said quickly, wiping her hands that had grown damp from nervousness on her skirt, before turning to shut the door. What have I gotten myself into, she thought, why have I made this offer? She turned back to face him and saw that he had seated himself on his chair's large leather ottoman before the fire. His robe was off, and she could see the thick corded muscles under his swarthy skin. How long had it been, she thought, since I last touched this man.

Slowly she approached and took the bowl from him, placing it on the side table before rolling her sleeves. "You know this was my mother's bowl?" she asked as she dipped her fingers in, "from Tara."

"I know," he answered softly, "its amazing Mammy held onto it all these years."

Scarlett stared at his shoulder briefly, she wasn't even sure where or how to begin. This simple task that her mother had performed countless of times to sooth her husband now seemed daunting to her. Her hand hovered tremulously above the injured limb, before it rested softly upon it. His skin trembled underneath.

An awkward silence filled the room as her fingers began moving, pushing and pulling, slowly working the lotion into the stiff muscle beneath. "This is my father's salve." She said quickly, to break the silence.

His eyes had closed at her tender touch. Honestly he couldn't remember the last time she had touched his bare flesh anywhere other than his hand and the warmth of her hand, the memory of her nimble fingers caused him to hang his head forward a bit and close his eyes. "Hmmm," he answered. "Pork told me."

"He broke his knee," she volunteered, as her fingers found a comfortable rhythm and began working a bit more deeply into his flesh. Her eyes closed and she drew upon a clear image of her mother's fingers, it was almost the same as when she taught cook how to knead perfect dough, a pulling and pushing, with deeper and deeper thrusts. "He was jumping fences with his horse."

Rhett chuckled a little, his head hanging low. How could his wife think he knew so little about her, about her family, her beloved father? Yes, of course he knew, Pork had told him, why she had probably told him and forgotten. Old Gerald O'Hara, probably three sheets to the wind and thundering down the lane like a bat out of hell, took the fence one too many times and went over, head over heels, lucky he didn't break his neck that time….too bad his luck hadn't held out.

"That's how I broke my shoulder," he said matter of factly, "jumping fences."

"You?" she was surprised, "Why I didn't think there was anyone could sit a horse better than you Rhett."

"I was a child." He said nonchalantly, trying not to let her see how much her touch was affecting him.

"What happened?" she asked, her hands venturing towards the base of his neck, and working the knots there.

He groaned lightly, and relaxed under her touch. "I was riding bareback out at the Landing, taking turns with some other boys, who could jump highest and what not. My horse spooked at the last minute , and without a saddle, I came right off."

"Oh no," she said gently her hands pausing momentarily.

"My arm got caught up in the reins," he continued "and it yanked my shoulder clear out of the socket, damn near yanked my arm off. As it is the leather sawed into the back side of my arm, and cut me something awful."

"My word Rhett," she leaned forward and found the wide faint scar on the outside of his arm running beneath until it disappeared into the thick hair underneath. "I can see the scar." She said reaching out her finger and tracing it faintly. "That must have been awful, how old were you?"

His eyes were closed; her touch along such an ancient hurt was so personal, so sensual, that he longed to tell her everything, anything, just to make her stay.

"I was…around Wade's age I guess, maybe a few years older." His voice was deep, and relaxed, oddly gruff, and she could tell in an instant, that he was becoming aroused.

"And ?" she asked softly , her hand tracing up and down the length of his scar, her finger reaching almost underneath his arm, a spot she had never touched on any man, but found strangely intimate.

"And…my brother ran home to get my father, who was angry with me…he didn't call the doctor until the next day."

He hadn't thought about that night actually in years, the heat in his bedroom, his brother sniffling and crying besides the bed. And the agony, the shear agony of his shoulder, still out of the socket, a sharp throbbing pain that threatened to grow immeasurably worse with every move. The burning of the gash, his arm pit sticky and on fire, sweat and blood, and his fear. His fear, for he was a boy, and he could hear his mother's soft insistent voice pleading outside the door and his father's stern commands. He wasn't sure if he was more frightened of his injury, or of his father's anger and refusal to treat him.

His mother had come in later in the evening, and knelt beside his bed. He could see that she had been crying, and he remembered how that was what had actually, finally unhinged him. Her tear stained face as she brushed his hair back off his brow, and applied another cool compress to his shoulder. She had sat up with him all night, listening as he cried, assuring him that she would swim to Charleston if she had to. His father had given in the next day; a doctor had arrived by ferry.

Despite the stitches, and his arm being bound across his chest for weeks, he had still been punished. Ross had cried, begging his father to let him serve the punishment out. But his father, stern as ever, despite his son's injury and discomfort had made him serve out every moment of his sentence.

"My God Rhett, that's horrible," she cried out, her handing resting on the strong curved muscle of his shoulder. "Why on earth was he so angry?"

He leaned his head all the way back and he could feel it rest against her middle, surprisingly, she didn't move back, but simply fixed her eyes down on his. "He was angry," he started calmly, "because I had been told on numerous occasions to never ride bareback. And my father thought, that if I was foolish enough to go jumping without a saddle, then I could pay the consequence."

"But the consequence was leaving his son in pain all through the night!" she exclaimed, looking down into his deep black eyes.

"It was!" he said, with a smirk, "and as I recall it was one of the longest nights of my life."

"But you were just a little boy!" she exclaimed again. And for the first time, looking down at him, she could picture him as a small lad. Prior to this moment, silly as it may sound she had never been able to picture him as anything but himself as he was now, never younger or older, certainly never a son, and positively never a boy…especially not a hurt little boy. But now, the mere thought of him as a young lad, why not much older than her Wade, with his dark skin and his black unruly hair, and his big black eyes laying in a bed with his little broken shoulder, why it nearly broke her heart.

He looked up at her and furrowed his brow, she was no longer looking at him, but he could see that she was biting her lip, and curling her nose ever so slightly, and her eyes were fixed in anger at a point across the room. "What is it darling?" he asked softly.

She rested her arms on either side of his shoulders and looked down at him, her green eyes glowing brightly. "I'm just so angry at your father Rhett!" she exclaimed.

He laughed brightly and reached up to take hold of one of her hands. "Well, I thank you Scarlett for rising up so swiftly to the defense of my former twelve year old self. I appreciate your ire, but unfortunately it is aimed at someone who is long deceased."

"I don't know how you can find his treatment funny?" she asked hotly.

"I don't," he said straightening his head so it was no longer leaning against her and staring into the fire. "It's just that, I haven't thought about that particular instance in a while….and it is your readiness to come to my boyhood defense that made me happy Scarlett, not his…abuse."

"Was he a horrible father?" she asked, surprised to find that she was still holding onto his hand.

Rhett took a deep breath, and let out a long soundless whistle. "He was a stern man, and I angered him often."

She couldn't imagine having grown up with anyone other than Gerald as her Pa. Oh Lord he had the kindest heart in the county, and she, why she had been his favorite, an intriguing combination of the belle of the county and the son he never had. Oh Gerald would have sooner die than punish her himself. Not a day had ever passed without a loving word from her Pa.

"Did you ever forgive him Rhett," she asked quietly, "before he passed?"

He laughed his cold cynic laugh and shook his head, giving her hand a gentle tug. "No, he was a bitter old man when he died. And though I never much cared about the lashings or other punishments he doled out on me as a child, I never forgave him for keeping my mother and sister away from me for so many years."

"Did you miss them?" she asked surprised that in this one day she was seemingly learning more about Rhett than in their years of knowing one another.

"Dearly." He answered simply.

She couldn't imagine, having her Mother and say…Careen, living so close by and never once having them to the house. I mean, she knew Sue was out at Tara, but that was different, the rift that she had caused by marrying Frank, had only grown wider throughout the years. And even though Sue had ended up married to Will, and bearing children of her own, she had somehow never forgiven Scarlett for that impasse. But had it been Mother, or dear sweet Careen, why they would be over at Peachtree as often as could be.

"We could have them visit you know" she said tentatively.

His eyebrow shot up in surprise. "That would be tricky," he replied, "My mother, and especially Rosemary would sense our discord in an instant."

"We could fool them." She laughed, the thought of staging a happy marriage seeming more of a joke right now then the harsh reality that they were in the position to think that way to begin with.

He chuckled under his breath, "That would be quite the production to have to stage my pet, and I have serious doubts of our success."

"We could try." She said lamely.

"Scarlett," he said pulling her around so that she could face him, "what is this? We've barely spoken in months, you spent the better part of last night hurling insults and glassware at me, and now you come in here with this….salve, and not only do you offer to apply it, a feat which required that you actually…touch me, an act you have not preformed willingly in…oh let's say months, and then you suggest we have my mother and sister out for a visit, and attempt to deceive them by staging a harmonious and happy marriage. What game is this that you've chosen to play this evening darling…..perhaps if you let me in on it; I might be keener to play along."

"I don't know…" she started, attempting to step back and pull her hand out of his grasp.

"No," he shook his head and held fast to her slippery fingers, "Don't pull away Scarlett, I haven't held your hand like this in months, and even if it is quite greasy, I'd rather not let go."

"I…well…" she startled at his honesty.

"Come now Scarlett, don't be so shy, you know I like games after all, but not so much ones that involve the constant laceration of my heart."

She laughed at this despite the fact that the moment had grown quite tense. "Is it really lacerated Rhett," she asked lightly, "you seem to go about your days quite well and without injury."

The side of his mouth curled up in that lazy Charlestonian smile she had grown so fond of over the years, the one that always meant good humor, and never cynicism. "I suppose I'm a good play actor my pet, would you prefer I stumbled around with one hand clasped above my heart, and my face in a mask of agony like some sort of Shakespearian tragedy?"

She laughed again and took a step closer to him, her legs mere inches from his bended knees, their hands still clasped together. "Perhaps," she said flippantly, "It would certainly be more believable that your constant chipper, dapper self."

"Ah yes," he breathed in deeply and puffed out his chest, "The picture of a happily married man, I suppose."

She shook her head. "Yes, a well-crafted portrait indeed."

"Oh Scarlett," he pulled her hand and simultaneously widened his knees so that he managed to pull her between them. "How can I be happy when I have not shared any affection from my wife in months?"

"Is that all marriage is too you?" she asked him, suddenly annoyed, not only by his remark, but that he had managed slyly to pull her into such a compromising physical position. "Marital affections?"

He laughed and hung his head back for a moment. "How do I say this without sounding glib my pet, the marital affections though extremely pleasing, are the aspect of our rapport that I miss the least. That type of affection, if wanted, can be easily found outside the home."

"OH stop it you vile pig!" she exclaimed struggling to pull out of his grasp. But, he merely cinched her legs and held her captive.

"Stop Scarlett," he continued, "Let me finish; I said they _could_ be easily found if one so desired. The affections, I am speaking of….the ones I missed the most, are these. Well, not so much this right now, but the moment we shared before…with the salve, your tender touch, your interest in my childhood tale."

He paused for a moment and fixed his deep black eyes on hers, how much could he tell her he thought, without uncovering what truly lay in his heart.

"We have not…touched one another, or held one another….or just enjoyed one another's company in so long Scarlett." He continued. "I've missed our endless talks, and silly banter. My God Scarlett, as much as I've missed lying in your bed at night, I suppose I've missed moments like these the most."

"Why…I…" she was rendered speechless, by his outpouring, utterly and completely speechless, for it was as if he had reached inside of her and voiced the thoughts she had kept well hidden for far too long. Sometimes Scarlett felt as if she had married her dearest friend, and woken up with her worst enemy

"Oh say it Scarlett, say it damn it!" he said vehemently, reaching his hand to her shoulders and shaking her softly. "I know you've missed me, I know you have. I don't expect a silly schoolgirl declaration of your love for me, and I certainly don't expect you to invite me back into your bed, but by God woman, push aside your Irish pride and tell me! Tell me you've missed me! Tell me!"

"I have!" she shouted out suddenly, for she had missed him, oh how she had missed their talks, and their senseless arguments, and his tender embraces. The warmth she had always felt, for he had always, always had a hand upon her somewhere, whether on the small of her back, or her arm, or her side, or scandalously even upon her thigh. She recalled now fondly, that during happier times, Rhett had been in physical contact with her nearly every moment that he was in her presence. She hadn't thought about that until this very moment actually, and she began to think, that perhaps he missed the lack of physical contact more than she did.

"I have missed you!" she said again, more softly this time, as she thought back on those endless nights on Pitty's porch during the war, when one long tale had spun into another, and another. Or, the clandestine carriage rides when he would truss his horse to the back of her cart and smoothly climb aboard, sliding the reins from her hands, and forcing his good humor on her, even when she had thought she couldn't possibly go on, couldn't possibly face another day tethered to Frank. Or her honeymoon, when she had lain shamelessly in his arms, and talked and talked until the early morning hours. Everything, everything had somehow slipped through their fingers, and they had ended up like strangers, living together in a giant house….greeting each other politely, and exchanging banal pleasantries. Oh how had it ever happened?

He stared at her for a moment his dark eyes squinting. He had hoped for this moment so often, but to be truthful, he still had no idea where to go from here. It was as if they each had seen the bridge between the wide chasm, but now they had to actually cross it.

His hand squeezed hers firmly for a moment before giving it a gentle shake. Scarlett," he said softly, his eyes meeting hers, "This balm of your mother's…it really does works wonders."

She opened her mouth to answer and then shut it firmly again, before tipping her head back and laughing ,openly and brightly, like she hadn't laughed in years. "I take it your shoulder's better then?" she asked her eyebrow arched above her twinkling green eye.

"No," he laughed, pulling her swiftly forward and into his embrace, "shoulder's still sore as hell."

****_BE KIND REVIEW_


	14. Chapter 14

_Thank you all to those who have stuck by me and reviewed ! Its been harder and harder to come up with these moments, but this one...though not as fluffy as usual will hopefully entertain. I do believe that from time to time the Butlers got into some nasty, nasty fights...here's one of them. If you like it...or have any ideas for another moment, please let me know..._

_ps- for those of you who watch The Walking Dead, i've been posting a couple of things as ex zombie...check em out._

_And now enjoy...or cringe !_

**THE BATTLE**

They came home in a fury. The servants who were still up and about, mostly to keep an ear out for the sleeping children scattered away when they heard the sound of the front door slamming with such force it threatened to take down the house.

Usually the war between the Butlers was fought discreetly. The cutting remarks and snide comebacks occurred throughout the day. But usually the battles, the true out and out verbal bloodbaths that occurred on a more and more regular occurrence were fought up in the privacy of their chambers. Well, at least not in the grand entrance hall, whose high ceiling and polished marble stood to reverberate every sound, including insults and obscenities and escalate it to a point where it nearly shattered the stain glass windows.

But on this evening something out of the ordinary must have occurred, because the shouting could be heard from the street. And the slamming of the front door signaled a battle that was bound to be at least as grand as the final siege on Atlanta.

"You had no right!" Scarlett shouted, her face, burning in fury.

Rhett froze for a moment in the foyer, his hands slipping into the pockets of his overcoat his eyes narrowing slightly. "I had every right actually." He said with a smirk. "You're my wife, even though you don't behave as one, you are Scarlett, and I can do with you as I please."

She was on the first of the steps when that last line reached her ears, and she turned in an instant, her hands grasping to gather her skirt at her thighs. "Do with me as you please !" she shrieked, "what sort of world do you think we live in Rhett Butler ?" she screamed at him as she ran down the two steps to face him off, "to parade me around like…."

"Like the whore that you are." He cut her off briskly.

The first blow came so fast he scarcely saw it. But he felt it, a slap so sharp across his face, that he felt for sure she must have drawn blood. After years of fighting he still hadn't learned to dodge her claws.

The second one he caught. His large hand held firmly onto her wrist as she fought to yank herself free.

"Let me go you foul pig." She seethed under her breath. Her eyes so filled with venom he thought she would surely poison him from her look alone.

"I won't Scarlett," he said through gritted teeth, "until you calm yourself."

She could see the muscles in his jaw clenching and the thin drop of blood that ran from the scratch on his cheek. She would feel that slap in her hand tomorrow, or when her adrenaline stopped running. Whichever came first.

"You're hurting me!" she hissed.

"You haven't seen hurt." He replied tightening his grip on her arm and pulling her closer.

"I'll scream." She threatened.

His lip curled into a smile, "do it Scarlett," he goaded, "scream and wake the whole house up."

"Let go of me." She countered between clenched teeth of her own.

"I'll let you go darling," he said calmly, "but strike me again, and you'll wish I'd held onto that pretty little wrist of yours with a bit more force."

His hand released her and he simultaneously took a step forward to crowd her. He wanted to fluster her, to frighten her, to intimidate her with his sheer size and force. But she squared off instead. Had he forgotten, cornered animals never cowered?

"You don't scare me Rhett Butler," she snapped, "and you never will."

Those green emeralds he had though he could not live without, were now rapidly becoming the death of him. He took a step back, then turned and headed towards the bottle. His only refuge to her frequent storms was found in a bottle.

His laugh broke the silence, "I could frighten you in a heartbeat if I wanted to darling." He said off handedly, regaining some of his composure. He had never laid a hand on a woman, but God help him. "How about I cut off some of your funding…." He poured himself a drink, "or call in some loans."

"I have the mills…."she started.

"I'll burn your damn mills to the ground!" he shouted slamming down his glass. "And I'll burn Ashley Wilkes with them."

"Stop it." She whispered.

"Oh," he raised a dark eyebrow and turned to face her. "Something that frightens you then, is it the thought of losing your mills….or losing your precious Ashley?"

"It's always Ashley, Ashley, Ashley. He's all you think about Rhett. Why sometimes I think you think about him more than I do?"

He laughed bitterly, "Oh, I sincerely doubt that. That man's been in bed with us since the day I made you my wife."

"What?" Her eyebrow rose up. She had never touched Ashley, never once, did he think that …. "Don't be a fool Rhett, why you know I've never…."

"But you've thought about it haven't you?" He tilted his head to the side, and nodded slightly at the pink flush that spread down her cheeks and onto her chest. "Every time you've lain in my arms Scarlett, you've wished it was him instead, haven't you?"

"Rhett stop it." She said quickly, as bad as the conversation had been before, it had taken a definitive turn for the worst.

"No goddamn it." He shouted flinging his glass across the wall, "Do you know what it's like to want someone…." He turned to glare at her, and for once she could see how truly intoxicated he was. "To want someone with every fiber of your being and to watch them….." he paused, and closed his eyes for a moment taking a deep breath. "Yes, I suppose you do know after all. Perhaps you know better than me." He added with a small snort.

She shook her head dismissively. "You're drunk, and angry, and…."

"And I'm right!" he finished forcefully. "Tell me woman, how many times have you lain in my arms and thought of him?"

She faltered. It was the truth, he knew it and so did she. Of course she had thought of Ashley, she always thought of Ashley, maybe not during the act itself, why Ashley would never…he wasn't the sort to demand such base pleasures. But after, as she had lain comfortably in his arms, Yes, why that would be more Ashley's style, the soothing comfort, and the tender words. The fingers running up and down her spine, or seeking out the softest hairs at the base of her neck and …..

"You witch!" he spat out under his breath, "You can't even refrain from thinking of him now can you?"

"Of course I can't," her cheeks reddened and her eyes narrowed, she had been caught, but she was a master at turning the tables, and she did so quickly. "How can I think of anyone else after how you behaved this evening….you embarrassed me…and Ashley, and….and Melly?"

"Melly's been embarrassed for years you little fool," he shook his head in amazement. Sometimes, he thought, his clever little wife was nothing more than a petulant child. Most times actually, and he should have been used to it by now. "And you, why you only embarrass yourself with this constant ridiculous fawning…..I only did it for you this evening."

"You practically threw me into his arms!" she countered. "The way you behaved…you had the better half of Atlanta questioning our…"

"Our union," he smirked, raising an eyebrow and raking it up and over her body, "You were the worst dammed investment I ever made Scarlett. The most perfect example of what happens when a man loses his head in business."

"Why you vile hurtful pig!" she gathered her skirts and charged towards him, "Business investment? You nearly begged for my hand, and don't you forget it!"

"You vain little vixen!" he laughed, "I did what I did to close the deal. I bought this marriage, bought you essentially and we both know it…what I didn't realize is…that no matter how sweet the deal, a bought woman will always behave as such."

Her hand swung out again, and this time he caught her wrist mid swing, and yanked it to the side with such force he threatened to knock her off her feet.

"I'm the furthest thing from a bought woman that you've ever had Rhett Butler." She screamed fighting to pull herself free once again.

In one swift move he pulled her wrist forward and reached his other hand up to grab her chin and pulled her face upwards and towards him. "You are bought Scarlett, in every way but one. I own every last bit of you except for your goddamn spirit. I can't buy it," here he tightened his grip on both her wrist and her chin menacingly, "but perhaps I can break it."

Her breathing came out in sharp gasping pants and her teeth were clenched together against the pain he was causing, but she wouldn't show him and she would not cry out.

"You don't own any part of me you fool," she spat out, "and you won't ever, break me."

"Perhaps, I can break you upstairs," he seethed. "Perhaps I should claim my marital rights, as I've never done before, and break that damn spirit of yours in our bedroom."

Fear and panic settled in the bowels of her stomach. A sober Rhett would never even think such things, much less suggest them, but this intoxicated version…she had no doubt that he would act on anything if she prodded any further. "Please Rhett," she whispered, struggling to pull herself free.

"How quickly you turn to begging Scarlett," he laughed, letting go of her, "when the talk turns to the bedroom, suddenly the fight's all gone is it?"

"Stop it Rhett." She said firmly, stepping backwards and away.

"Scared ill force you?" He raised an eyebrow and took a step forward.

"Stop it!" she cried out. "You're frightening me."

"I'm frightening you," he repeated blandly, running a hand over his thick black hair. "Suddenly I frighten you….moments ago, you threatened to claw my eyes out, and now…."

"And now you speak of ….forcing…."

"Don't worry darling," he drawled as he walked over to the divan and dropped upon it. "I won't force you. I won't force you to lie with me or sleep with me or even goddamn touch me." He paused and looked up her, "unless we are outside the home, and then my pet….I will force you to behave as if you were my wife."

She took a step forward than faltered, "I am your wife Rhett."

"Then prove it." He said simply.

"I'll behave….differently." she whispered, gathering her skirts and edging carefully around the divan. These were indeed dangerous waters she was navigating. She could sense that his moods were shifting, his heat and fire shifting from anger towards something perhaps far more dangerous to her.

"Differently how?" He asked gruffly as his hand reached out and grasped the edge of her dress as she walked by, holding the silk between his fingers as his eyes locked on hers.

She could see in an instant, that her assumptions had been correct. His dark eyes burned with a lustful intensity that threatened to swallow her whole. And she knew, that he meant to settle their differences between the sheets.

She stopped briefly "I cant." She said quickly, pulling away.

"Dammit Scarlett," he roared jumping to his feet, "Is there none of that passion that you hold so dear for Ashley left for me? Your husband….do you feel nothing…?

She backed away, her eyes filling with fear, panic….and an almost shear form of dread, things he had hoped to never see in those bright green gems he had loved so much.

With one swift blow from his hand he upended the small table that stood before them, shattering glasses and decanters on the marble floor.

"You know Scarlett," he said lightly as he brushed a few drop and shards of glass that had sprayed up on his coat. "I never fold on my investments, even if at times they're not…putting out…. as I had intended." He pulled a cigar, from his breast pocket, and quickly nipping the end of it brought it to his lips and lit it in a manically methodical way. "I tweak them, and work them, until I get what I want. Eventually darling, I always get what I want."

Scarlett fixed her eyes on his. She knew better than to open her mouth, but she did not let her hard green glare waver from his own.

"But on this evening, I suppose I'm better off outside the home," He said briskly, with a quick nod, before turning his back, and striding across the foyer. "My money will be better spent on a woman who actually knows what it is that I am buying." He finished, walking out the door and slamming it behind him, with enough force to alert the servants that it was now safe to venture out and pick up the pieces.

Scarlett took two steps towards the stairs and rested her hand on the banister. He had drained every last bit of fire and strength from her veins as he always did. His anger and temper were uncontrollable and frightening when he drank. And his wants and desires were nearly impossible to harness.

Oh, she was no fool. She knew she had been bought. She had known what Rhett Butler was like, and what it was that he was offering and she had stepped right into it. She had wanted the spoils, and the money, and maybe some of him as well. The fun, light-hearted man that had spent the evenings with her on Pitty's porch, not this over-powering, cold hard stranger, who's emotions flipped from one to another so quickly, she scarcely had time to keep her feet beneath her.

She had known him, and what he was offering. And she had stepped into it, never once thinking what it would be like to spend a lifetime trapped beneath a man she could not control. What it would be like, when Rhett finally decided to claim his due, because though she had spent the first couple of years in denial, pushing the truth back to the far reaches of her mind, she had known, she had always known, that Rhett Butler always gets what he wants in the end.


End file.
